Dark Night, Hold Tight
by Saskia Mitchell
Summary: Can it ever go back to the way it was, when so much has changed? SS.
1. Dark Night, Hold Tight

Dark Night, Hold Tight

By: Saskia Mitchell

Rating: t.

Disclaimer: The characters do not belong to me, but to the v. creative people over at Fox, Wonderland, the Schwartz, and various other entities that do not belong to me, consult me or pay me in any way. The title courtesy of the brilliant group that is Eisley.

A/N: for Dawn, because she wanted it.

* * *

Summer woke up to a black night, a starless sky.

The beeping of her watch told her that it was a quarter past five. She yawned and stretched out on her stomach, arching her back, like a cat. She could hear Anna's very purposeful banging from the kitchen of their third-floor loft apartment. Anna always made a lot of healthy noise when she wanted Summer to wake up; she was much too coy to just waltz right in, the way that Summer was wont to do. Summer didn't mind that much, after two years of living with Anna, she'd gotten used to the other girl's habits and quirks. And she couldn't exactly complain, Anna was the best friend she had ever, and would ever have.

Summer continued to stretch the kinks out of her buttery muscles, warm and limp from an hour of disuse. She loved her naps, her sabbaticals, as she liked to refer to them; she tried to convince Anna that they were necessary to keep her in top form. Anna just snorted and rolled her eyes. Summer had plenty of other indulgences as well: yoga, "meditations" in bubble baths, hours alone spent reading…

"Anna?" Summer called experimentally.

Anna's innocent voice came closer as she moved down the hall. "Oh, are you awake?" Summer could almost hear the mischievous smile.

It was Summer's turn to roll her eyes, but she couldn't hide her answering grin. "Yeah." She yawned again, exaggerated.

"Do you want something to eat before we head out? I'm making a sandwich."

"Ooh, will you make me one too? Avocado and mushroom?" Summer pleaded prettily. She stuck her lip out in mockery of a dramatic pout.

"Oh, alright. But hurry up and get dressed," Anna prodded, leaving the doorway. Summer smiled hugely; she loved being pampered. She rolled off the bed lazily and moved to her closet, rummaging around in the back until she emerged with her white seersucker sundress, triumphant. She slipped it on, loving that the bodice still hugged the curves of her breasts snugly. She'd lost a bit of weight after the accident, and though she'd tried like hell to gain most of it back, she wasn't sure she would ever be a C-cup again.

"You want sprouts?" Anna hollered from the kitchen, her mouth full.

"Yes, please!" Summer called back, slipping into a pair of strappy sandals and bending over at the waist to carefully buckle them onto her feet. These days she shied away from high heels, she didn't feel the need to add the extra inches to her height. Lately she was perfectly comfortable fading in to the wallpaper.

She could smell autumn coming, there were hints of it on the air, she felt it on every lazy breeze that wafted through the crack she left in the bedroom window. She smoothed her short dress across her thighs, she wasn't quite ready to give up the last vestiges of summer.

Summer shut the closet door, grabbed her purse off of the back of the chair that matched the vanity, and then adjusted her sleep-tousled ponytail. Satisfied that she was fit to be seen in public, Summer headed for the door. She'd almost reached it when she tripped over what felt like a barbell and stubbed her toe.

Angry tears sprang to her eyes and her foot smarted painfully. She cried out piteously and then frowned. Summer had always been the most efficient housekeeper; a place for everything and everything in it's place. She'd tried time and again to teach Anna the virtues of putting something away when she was done using it, but Anna had gone too long having a maid picking up after her constantly to change long-ingrained bad habits. It irritated Summer that Anna was always leaving shit laying around for her to stumble over. Sometimes she wondered if it was all part of a cruel elaborate joke.

She sighed, pushed the offending object out of the way with her foot and flipped the light switch on her way out the door. No matter how much time went by, Summer didn't know if she would ever get used to being blind.

* * *

To be continued...  



	2. Orange, Gold and Green

_Summer graduated from Berkeley on her twenty-third birthday. She beamed with pleasure and pride as she walked across the stage to accept her diploma, and gave a wave to the five people in their seats that meant everything to her: Seth, Sandy and Kirsten Cohen, Ryan Atwood and Marissa Cooper. Kirsten was already dabbing at the corners of her eyes, the last of her little adopted darlings was graduating. Sandy was taking an obscene amount of photos, while Seth and Ryan, seated on either side of him, rolled their eyes in quiet derision. Seth had taken plenty of his own private photographs the night before, committing the sight of his lover's body to his memory forever. Marissa was unusually morose, but tried hard to smile when she knew Summer was looking. _

_Neil Roberts had left a message on Summer's cell phone the night before, explaining just how much he wanted to be there. So much so that he couldn't even cancel his vacation to come home to see his only child wear her cap and gown. Summer erased the message without listening to it. As long as he footed the bill, she was content to maintain the status quo; lucky for her that her father never ran out of guilt. _

_What did her father know about her anyway? When she was sixteen years old he told her that Seth Cohen was nothing but a big kid, and that he'd spend his life coasting on his grandfather's good name. When she was seventeen, he told her flatly that her mother had never wanted children, thus besmirching forevermore the memory of his late wife, Fadia Yousef Roberts; the woman she'd spent almost fifteen years fantasizing about. When she was eighteen, he came home just in time to apologize profusely for missing her high school graduation. Summer hadn't spoken to her father in so long that she sometimes forgot the way his voice sounded. She wasn't sure she could even regret that. _

_After the graduation ceremony, Seth and the Cohens took her to dinner at her favorite little Italian restaurant, offering many red wine toasts to her fame, fortune, success, beauty, and to anything else that came to mind. Spontaneous though they were, they were also the most genuine people she'd ever known in her life; such an anomaly in Newport Beach, and she could only thank her lucky stars they hadn't been swept under the tide of superficiality and vanity. She also thanked, bountifully, whatever deity that had given her Seth Cohen. _

_Seth held her hand under the table, stroking the back of her fingers gently, listening to his father wax poetic about his own activist days at Berkeley. _

_"Yeah, Dad, you're a real warrior," Seth jabbed. _

_"Hey, now, don't knock his revolutionary spirit," Kirsten warned playfully. "I never would have noticed him if he hadn't been standing out on the Quad protesting Vietnam with tape over his mouth." _

_"That wasn't Vietnam, that was Iran-Contra, geez," Sandy elbowed his beautiful wife in the ribs. _

_"How am I supposed to keep all that straight?" Kirsten dismissed with a wave of her hand. "You people staged protests every other week." _

_"You people?" Sandy turned to his sons. "See how the mighty have fallen. And in a record fifteen seconds." _

_Summer just sat back in her seat and watched the camaraderie, hoping with all of her heart that she and Seth would create a family as loving, as inclusive and as genuinely devoted to one another as the Cohens were. _

_Though she had been expecting a proposal from Seth for months, her eyes still filled with tears and her heart swelled to bursting when, after desert, in front of his parents, Ryan, and the entire restaurant, he offered her a ring and his endless devotion. Seth had been offered a year-long art internship in Italy at the end of which he was to come home and make her his bride. _

_Seth took her home that night and made love to her as tenderly as she had ever let him, all the while whispering that he loved her, that they would always be together, that he would never leave her._

It's funny how life works sometimes.

* * *

"So my mother has been bugging me to come home for the Labor Day weekend, but I'm just not in the mood to make nice with her and the new husband for five days." Marissa had been complaining about her mother for the last fifteen minutes, Summer was drifting in and out of the conversation, occasionally muttering an "uh huh" or "what a bitch!" She was in deep concentration, painting her toenails with what she hoped was a dark cherry lacquer.

"Why don't you just tell her you don't want to come?" Summer frowned.

"She's like, a poisonous spider, or something," Marissa complained, "she would find a way to punish me for it in the long run. Maybe if I told her you'd already invited me to come to the City…"

Summer rolled her eyes. "You know you're always welcome," she shook her head, amused. "Is Caitlyn still away at school?" Summer asked, switching the small bottle of polish from one hand to the other, repositioning the receiver so she could hear better.

"What are you doing?" Marissa asked when Summer's muffled voice came through the line.

"Trying to paint my toenails. I'd been looking for another bottle of Candied Cherry forever, and Anna found one yesterday so she picked it up for me," Summer bit her lower lip in concentration as she scraped off excess polish.

Marissa silently wondered how Summer was getting along without being able to see what she was doing, and Summer picked up on her wordless cue as if she could read Marissa's mind.

"See, Anna takes the label maker, and labels all my bottles with the names of the colors. I pick out which one I want, and then just paint them. I use a Q-tip with remover to clean up the polish that gets on my skin, and if all else fails, she'll tell me if I've missed a spot."

"That's impressive. I should try that sometime, painting my toenails with my eyes closed."

"It takes practice," Summer warned with an easy laugh that didn't quite reach her heart.

"So," Marissa said casually, "are you going home for Thanksgiving?"

Summer snorted. "Yeah, right, Coop. Spending a week in that big ol' empty house bumping into shit sounds like a great time."

"I was just thinking it might be nice for you to come stay at the house with me," Marissa lamented in her soft, passive way.

Summer sighed. "I think Anna and I are going to stay in the City, rent movies. Do the dinner thing here. Kurt's a really good cook."

"The Cooper-Nichol-Cohen-Whoevers are having another huge Chrismukkah party this year, are you coming home for _that_?" Marissa asked.

"No."

"Are you just going to avoid Seth for the rest of your life?"

"Planning on it," Summer retorted dryly.

This argument was old-hat for them, so Marissa relented, didn't pursue it further.

"I guess I'll just take the train up in a few weeks for Labor Day."

"Okay, call me Monday," Summer instructed before clicking the phone off and dropping in next to her on the carpet. She carefully finished painting her nails and recapped the bottle. She rolled onto her back and extended her feet into the air, flexing her toes.

Anna would be home any minute, and tonight she was going to teach Summer how to make spaghetti. Somewhere deep in her bratty little teenaged soul, Summer had always known that one day she would have to learn to cook, and clean and fend for herself, but it just never seemed very pressing at the time. Her father had more than enough money to keep her in maids, and cooks, and gardeners, and everything else her whimsical little heart desired. Before moving in with Anna, Summer didn't know how to clean out a bathtub, or fix her own meals; she barely knew how to make her own bed. Sure, she could put her toys back where they belonged, but really cleaning was completely foreign. And strangely, that felt good. For once her helplessness didn't have a thing to do with being blind.

After the accident, Summer had wallowed in a lugubrious depression. She holed up in her room, in bed, and ordered the housekeepers around like a spoiled princess. She drove her once-distant, now-absent father crazy, and she refused to learn anything new or do anything for herself. She had always been a stubborn ass, but after the accident she'd honed her mulishness into an art form. Summer would never forget the way Anna found her, or how guilty and selfish she had made Summer feel. Anna hadn't known what had happened…the fact was, no one knew what had happened. Sure, everyone had known that the Roberts girl had been involved in a near-fatal car accident, but no one knew that the stroke she had had on the way to the hospital in the ambulance had taken away her sight.

* * *

_The doorbell rang, and Summer hid in her room as she usually did when company came around. She hadn't received any visitors save Marissa, whom she'd sworn to secrecy. She sat on her duvet, waiting for the weary housekeeper to come up and tell her who had been by, the way Summer had demanded that she do. When she heard Anna's voice resonating in the enormous foyer, coming closer by the second, she panicked. She lurched off the bed, tripped, fell and sprained her ankle. _

_"Summer, I…" Anna stopped short in the threshold of the doorway, struck by how silly Summer looked sprawled out on the floor. She bit back a laugh, but grew solemn when she saw Summer's tears. Anna knelt next to Summer with every intention of helping her up gently, but Summer lashed out, hit Anna square across the chest. _

_"Didn't they tell you I didn't want to see you?" she cried. She continued to flail her arms, but Anna grabbed them and held them still, pinning Summer down, more out of fear that she would hurt herself, than actually hurt Anna. _

_Summer's sightless eyes darted back and forth, terrified, and in a single, deafening moment, realization crashed over Anna like a wave. _

_"Summer, you've…Oh, God…you're blind," she whispered breathlessly. _

_"Yes, I'm blind!" Summer spat. "I'm blind and I don't want you to be here, so just leave!" She continued to cry, more out of embarrassment than fear or pain. She struggled against Anna's grasp fruitlessly. _

_"Stop it!" Anna commanded, fighting the urge to slap Summer silly. "I'm not here to hurt you!" _

_"Leave me alone," Summer repeated, still struggling half-heartedly. She finally stopped trying to squirm away and Anna's kiss against her sticky cheek caused fresh tears to spill. _

_"Summer," Anna pulled her close and Summer really cried for the first time since she was a child. She sobbed, wrapping her arms around Anna as if Anna was the mother she'd needed so desperately the last few months. Anna didn't let her go until she had cried herself to sleep. _

* * *

Summer shook herself out of her memories when she heard Anna's key in the door. She'd long learned the familiar habits of her roommate, soft steps to the door, a jangly rummaging at the bottom of her enormous ugly purse looking for her house keys, and then a sing-song "I'm home," as Anna came through the door.

"Hey," Summer came hobbling in from the bathroom, the blue Styrofoam toe-separators slapping against her feet noisily. "How do they look?"

"Like you painted them in the dark," Anna teased, before bending over to inspect Summer's toes. She straightened and hugged her friend. "They look perfect, as always."

"Gnarly," Summer shuffled over to the bar that cordoned off the kitchen from the living room and hopped up on one of the stools. "So, spaghetti…"

"Spaghetti," Anna agreed. "And an egregious amount of wine, just in case we fuck it up."

* * *

Forty-five minutes and three glasses of wine later, Anna could barely stand, and therefore was perched on the stool, her elbows propped up on the bar and her chin in her hand, watching Summer stir the spaghetti.

"Where's the potholder?"

"Eighteen inches to your right," Anna instructed, before blithely continuing her story. Summer grabbed it and opened the oven door, wrapping her covered hand around the warmed loaf of bread.

"…I have another meeting on Friday," Anna finished. Summer frowned, she hadn't been paying close enough attention.

"So did they make you an offer?"

"I'm holding out until Friday to see if I can get a little more," Anna said decisively.

"Keep holding out and they're going to pass you right by," Summer warned.

Anna stuck her tongue out, though Summer couldn't see her, of course. "Is that going to be done sometime tonight?" she ribbed instead.

Summer opened her mouth to retort, but stopped short when she heard the front door swing open and a loud "Hey hey!" boom through the living room.

"We're in here!" Anna called over her shoulder.

Anna's boyfriend Kurt came sauntering around the corner from the foyer, dropping his briefcase and overcoat on the floor next to the sofa.

"Wow…it smells like a garlic press exploded in here," he wrinkled his nose as he approached Anna from behind and wrapped his arms around her waist. Anna elbowed him ruthlessly. "Good," he blurted. "It smells…good, just…um, garlicky."

"Yeah," Anna laughed, tipsy. "Summer went a little nuts."

"In my defense, it's not like I can see what I'm doing," Summer bit back, jovially. "Besides, I _like_ garlic."

"It's good for the heart," Anna announced. "So is wine," she clinked her nearly-empty glass against Summer's and downed the remaining few sips in one healthy gulp.

"One glass: good. Three glasses: alcoholic," Summer remarked wryly, rolling her eyes.

"Garlic may be good for the heart, but it's bad for the looooooove," Kurt drawled, laying a noisy kiss on Anna's neck.

"Ew! No macking in the kitchen!" Summer protested, her nose wrinkling.

"Yeah, Kurt! Ew!" Anna laughed.

Despite her protests, Anna and Kurt continued to kiss and giggle, and Summer turned back to her pot, pretending to concentrate on stirring. She knew Anna wasn't trying to rub it in, but sometimes it stung to feel how happy she and Kurt were together.

_Stop it_, Summer chastised herself. _You had that kind of love, once. You had your chance.__No one ever said you deserved any more than what you've already had_. _You've been luckier than a lot of people. A lot of people never get the chance at that kind of love, not ever..._

Her heart ached as she listened to the sounds her friends made, and she wondered if she would ever be happy again.

* * *

To Be Continued... 


	3. I Wasn't Prepared for This

_A blood-curdling scream rang through the halls of the fifth floor of Newport Beach Memorial Hospital. In the closet-sized lab, resident Isabel Martinelli, startled by the sudden shriek in the chilly silence, dropped a vial of plasma in surprise. A hand rose to her throat as her heart pounded furiously beneath her breast. She poked her head out of her sanctuary in time to see the head nurse and several residents disappear behind the door of room 564. The pitiful wailing was still echoing off the freshly-waxed tile floor and scuffed plaster walls. The scent of oranges was almost overpowering. _

_Isabel tripped over the worn rubber lip of her sneakers as she too hurried towards the door; in her rush, she lost her footing and almost careened into the doorframe. At the last second she caught herself on the molding of the door; her faces inches from the patient chart that protruded from the wall. Her eye caught the bright red lettering as she righted herself. Roberts, Summer Aabish Mahrukh._

_As Isabel opened the door, another piercing shriek assaulted her ears. _

_"Isabel, thank God!" Her best friend, Mary Gregson, was the head nurse and general go-to gal on the fifth floor. Mary was struggling with the patient, who was bucking wildly across the weary mattress, against the best efforts of not only Mary, but two other nurses and two resident doctors. _

_"Grab her leg there," Mary nodded towards the end of the bed and Isabel used all of her upper body strength to pin the girl's leg down, her weak arm muscles protesting. Isabel could now hear the girl babbling, sobbing hysterically. _

_"What the fuck is wrong with me? Why can't I see? Aren't my eyes open? **Why can't I see?**" _

_"Calm down, honey," Mary grunted as Summer continued to fight. "You have to calm down, sugar, or I'm going to strap you down." _

_"Don't even think about tying me down, you bitch!" Summer hissed, wrestling and leaping against the weight of her oppressors. She fought harder, jerking her head sideways to try to bite her captor. Mary ducked away easily and twisted Summer's wrist back, making her cry out, this time in pain. "Tell me why I can't see anything!" Summer demanded again, hoarse. _

_In the meantime, Mary was watching carefully as one of the residents, Kasey Bell, was desperately trying to prepare a sedative syringe, fumbling with the needle. _

_"Today, Kasey," Mary snapped finally. Kasey locked the needle and grimaced as she stabbed it into the patient's perfectly-tanned thigh. Another scream erupted; Isabel winced. "**What the FUCK**!" _

_Within a minute, the struggle had stopped, and Mary proceeded to pull the leather restraints over the side of the bed and strap the patient to the bed. Isabel sighed heavily, stepping back to get her first good look at the girl. She found herself breathless by the beauty of Summer Aabish Mahrukh Roberts. Her mahogany hair was sticking against her sweat-slicked skin, her body both toned and lush. Her now-drooping eyelids obscured eyes so dark they were almost obsidian; her lips were the crimson color of fresh blood. _

_"What's wrong with her?" one of the younger nurses asked, voicing the thoughts of everyone in the room. _

_"Well, she broke three ribs in the accident, and I'll have to talk with the doctor about her eyesight. This is the first time since she's been awake since they brought her in a week ago." _

_"She's blind?" Kasey asked hesitantly. _

_"Apparently," Mary answered dryly. "How much did you give her?" _

_"She'll be out for a half an hour, tops," Kasey answered efficiently, straightening. _

_"I'll call the doctor." _

_I want to be here with her when she wakes up," Isabel spoke up. _

_Mary turned to her, surprised; their eyes locked for an endless minute. _

_"Ask if she's in pain," Mary instructed brusquely after a moment's pause, before brushing past Isabel on her way to the door._

_Isabel turned back to her patient, stroking a bound hand tentatively, gently. Summer Roberts._

_

* * *

_  
Summer awoke with a start, immediately noticing the apartment was too quiet. The air-conditioner had shut off with a click, the wall clock had inexplicably stopped it's monotonous ticking. Three stories from the ground and in a good part of town, she couldn't discern the distant sound of traffic or emergency sirens. She couldn't even hear the comforting roar of Kurt's snoring from the next room.

She hated waking up in the middle of the night, she never knew what time it was, and though she had never felt unsafe in their little loft, the still silence nevertheless made her a little uneasy. As a child, she had always hated the dark, and now she was condemned to live in it forever.

It was always during this time, in the darkest hours of the night, that her mind leapt, unbidden, back to Seth Cohen. Sure, there wasn't a day that went by that she didn't _think_ about him; but it was in the deep silence of these hours that she couldn't escape from him, from the memories that haunted her. They played to her like a grotesque film, a slide show of snapshots from a happy life.

Hot tears sprang to her eyes, unwanted, but instead of wiping them away, she let gravity take it's course; rivulets twisting down olive cheeks. She thought she had gotten over asking herself why anymore. _Why_ _did this happen to me, why am I destined to be unhappy?_ But in the witching hour, she found she always drifted back. She thought she'd run out of tears long ago as well, but these late night cries always proved her wrong. She must have done something awful in a previous life to have deserved this.

_Or maybe you just did something awful in this life._ Her idle brain sent her spinning through a montage of drunken nights at parties; making fun of Seth Cohen; being cruel to anyone and everyone that wasn't just like her. All those years she had ignored him, never knowing that he was her true love. _Why had she wasted so much time?_ She could have been with him, all that time, enjoying one another while they were both still healthy, and young, and ... _not blind_, her restless mind filled in the blank.

_Why, God? What did I ever do? I was a good person, wasn't I? I volunteered at the hospital, and I did fashion shows to raise money for the battered women's shelter, and I gave my sartorial opinion to any of the girls at school who needed it. I was like, a friend to mankind. _

She ordinarily didn't like to wallow in self-pity; Anna had come along and reminded her how smart and strong and independent she was. But when Summer was alone, in the dark, and her heart couldn't take anymore, she would cry. Cry and think about Seth. She wondered where he was and what he was doing.

Were he and Ryan still together, brothers and best friends? Did Seth have a new life, a new love? It had been long enough—almost three years—he surely could have found another girl that would put up with him the way Summer had. But would he love her the way that he had loved Summer?

Would he want to give this new, mysterious woman his children? Would he take her home to Sandy and Kirsten, would they love her as much as they had loved Summer? Summer wondered what she looked like…short and dark and svelte? Or more like Anna; tall and thin and pixie-like? And would she be like Summer? Shallow, but not stupid? Or would they have a million and one things in common, like Seth and Anna? How would he ever be able to look back and remember Summer as the girl of his dreams when he had Mrs. Wonderful in his bed?

Not that Summer wanted him to look back. She didn't want him to think about her at all. She had given Seth Cohen his freedom, she wanted him to enjoy it. Marissa always told her that letting Seth go was the most selfless thing she'd ever done, but in the most secret part of her heart, Summer knew that it wasn't selfless at all. Despite all his bumbling, and fucking up, Seth was truly a good guy. He would have stayed with her until she ruined his life, made him miserable. He would have stayed with her even though his heart had grown cold; he would have stayed with her until he hated her.

_But that's not really what you were afraid of, was it? You were scared he **wouldn't **stay. That even the love he felt for you wouldn't have been enough to make him stay. After all, what are you good for now? _

When she really was honest with herself, she deserved to be left on the shore when Seth sailed away to Santa Barbara, or Catalina, or Tahiti, or wherever he went. She had ignored him for six years, she played him hot and cold, hurt his feelings, treated him cruelly.

And all through that, Seth had loved her. He'd always loved her, even when he sailed away on that stupid boat and left her with a stupid note. Boy she hated him for that. She had fancied herself unleaveable.

He had worked so hard to get her back, and she just rubbed it in his face that she was with Zach. It was so frighteningly easy to remember all of the good things—

A broken sob escaped her aching throat, she brought her hand to her mouth, in a fist. She bit into the skin there, desperate to feel anything but the tightness that was filling her chest.

She reached beneath the blanket, tensing almost painfully against her own touch. It had been a while. More tears leaked down her beautiful face. She sobbed, stroking herself until her back arched in a long-awaited climax...

* * *

…At that exact same moment, eight blocks away, Seth Cohen awoke with a start.

* * *

To be continued… 


	4. The Mystery of Salt and Sea

_Summer stood in front of the classroom, as nervous as the day in the third grade when she'd stood in front of all the other kids to read her poem, "I Wish I Was a Mermaid." Sure, the poem has been terrible, but Summer was one of the most popular girls in school, and so everyone told her how much they loved it, even though she knew they were lying. She always knew they called her stupid behind her back, she always wished they would just say it to her face. They never had, though. _

_She had ignored the way Seth Cohen stared at her lovingly, encouragingly even, as she read it aloud, though her hand was shaking and her heart was pounding. She could tell he was the only one in the room that even gave a damn if she finished, if she wrote a poem at all. Everyone knew he was the biggest dork, like, ever, and he mumbled a lot, so Summer flounced by him haughtily on the way back to her desk, giggling with Marissa Cooper for the rest of the period. Even though she'd gotten a C, her mother hung it on the refrigerator as if it had won the Nobel Prize. _

_Now she would be the one to assign her students poems to write, and she would get to watch the little petty fights and snubbing, and her heart would fill with love for Seth Cohen every time the class princess carefully ignored the shy little boy who couldn't help that he mumbled. That little boy would get all of her compassion, all of her vindication. The little boy who received no valentines during the class party, the little boy who had no friends to play kickball with at recess, the little boy who didn't bother to have birthday or sleepover parties because no one would come. That little boy would get her extra attention, because it wasn't so long ago that her dearest friend, her dearest love, had **been** that little boy. _

_She wrote her name on the board with the dry erase markers and added a little flourish at the end. Miss Roberts. She smiled, thinking that in less than a year, she would be Mrs. Cohen, and she would get to go home to Seth every night for the rest of her life. It felt good to belong to someone, to know that no matter what happened, you belonged to one another. She would never be alone again. _

_Summer wasn't sure what had even happened to that poem. It disappeared off of the refrigerator after her mother died._

_

* * *

_

Seth trooped up the worn carpeted stairs of the rundown apartment building where he and Ryan shared a shoebox-sized two-bedroom. They'd been living there almost a year and a half; the water pressure sucked, the walls were paper thin, the heating worked about half of the time, and they absolutely loved it. Ryan had spent years in Chino with a lot less, and whenever Seth felt tempted to complain, he remembered the twenty-seven days he'd spent on a catamaran in the Pacific. Seth finally had some idea of how his mom had felt living in the back of that mail truck; nothing special or even adequate...but they were _free_.

Ryan was working by day as a suit for some construction firm, and taking night classes towards a Master's degree in Structural Design. Seth was working as a copy editor at the Post, a grunt job to be sure, but his free time was spent pounding out his great American novel. Which to date, had a whopping seventeen pages written.

As he loped up the final remaining steps, Seth could see Ryan sitting out in the corridor, his back against the cheap wood veneer of their door.

"Admiring the hallway chic?"

"Forgot my key," Ryan grunted as he stood.

"Ah, the gentle midget has a voice," Seth ribbed playfully.

Ryan gave him The Look as Seth unlocked the door and let them both in.

"So...I know you don't have class tonight..." Seth rubbed his hands together with fiendish delight, "...and I was just thinking, we could make some queso, pop open some beers, and then invite the guys over so we can kick their asses at Texas Hold 'Em."

"They never seem to learn, do they?" Ryan's lips quirked. "But. I have a test tomorrow. I have to study."

"Ryan, buddy. Two words for you: cheat sheet."

"It's an essay," Ryan retorted dryly.

"Allow me to teach you some of the stealth learned at ol' Camp Tuckahoe. Anything can be accomplished with a little subterfuge," Seth made a finger-gun and shot Ryan with it.

Ryan grabbed his chest as if fatally wounded. "No."

"Awww, come on," Seth wheedled. "We have everything we need: Velveeta, rotel, Heineken, cards..."

Ryan glared.

Seth sighed dramatically. "Okay, tomorrow, then, but don't think you're going to get out of it."

Ryan grabbed his bookbag off the couch and slung it onto the kitchen table.

"I'm going to run to the store and get some stuff. I was thinking about trying my hand at Chicken Parmesan," Seth rolled an imaginary set of dice.

Ryan didn't say anything, but he nodded, and smiled, and that was more than Seth got most of the time, so he considered it a victory. He grabbed his keys and his wallet from his own messenger bag and whistled as he headed for the door. He jogged down to the corner market, making his selections quickly and unceremoniously dropping all of them on the counter in front of the harried clerk.

He hastily wrote his check at the bodega, absently asking the date as he filled out the remaining information. There was a small niggling feeling that he ignored as he began to walk home, swinging the bag beside him in a juvenile manner. He was halfway back to the apartment when he realized what was bothering him. It was August 23rd. August 23rd was Summer's birthday, and had been for the last twenty-seven years of his life. It was Summer's birthday.

Seth stopped short in the middle of the sidewalk, ignored the glares and the middle fingers that he received from surly passersby. He couldn't believe he'd almost forgotten Summer's birthday. He wasn't sure if that made him a total dick, or a prudent one. After all, it had been Summer who had left him, it was about time he got over it; any normal person would have. But Seth had never been normal...

A wave of longing and regret came crashing down on him forcefully, nearly overwhelming him. He had tried so hard to forget about her; he'd tried so hard to scour her from his soul. He'd long-ago put away all of her pictures, all of the pictures of them together. He'd pressed her love letters between pages of a book that he'd buried at the bottom of packing box that he'd hidden in his closet. He wished he could forget about them, move on...and then one day, maybe ten years down the line, once he was happily married to someone else, maybe with some kids...he'd drag out that old box and find those old letters merely by chance. He and his new bride would have a good laugh over why he'd saved silly love letters from an old sweetheart. And when it didn't burn anymore, he'd throw them away, and never think about her again. He'd forbidden his parents or even Ryan from mentioning her name—every once in a while, someone would slip, and he would pretend he hadn't heard them. Every time he thought about her he prayed it would be the last time.

But somehow he knew there would never be a 'last time' when it came to Summer Roberts. Men like Seth didn't forget women like Summer. He knew deep in his soul that some part of him would love her for the rest of his life. She was undeniable. Undeniably infuriating, undeniably mysterious, undeniably beautiful.

Seth would have signed his soul over to the devil long ago if it meant the pain of losing Summer would never again be laid at his door. So what if she had found another man? He'd known years ago that it was bound to happen. So what that she'd left him with only a note saying that she was sorry? He'd done the same thing to her when he sailed off into the sunset towards Catalina. So what that he would never love another woman? It didn't mean that he wouldn't build a life with someone else and be reasonably happy with them...

Seth trudged up the stairs once again to his dilapidated apartment, sighing, resigning himself to another night of drinking until comatose.

* * *

"Happy Birthday!" Kurt burst through the door to the living room, coming into the kitchen in search of his girlfriend's best friend. He picked Summer up into an effusive hug, spinning her around the small kitchen, making her squeal with laughter.

Anna rolled her eyes playfully, "Kurt, you're going to make her throw up, you tool."

"It's fine," Summer's cheeks were flushed, her sightless eyes sparkling. "Now give me my present!" she demanded, turning towards Anna.

"Who says we got you a present?" Anna chuffed.

"You get me a present every year, just giveit," Summer stamped her foot playfully.

"Yes, but maybe you just don't deserve it this year..."

"Gimme, gimme, gimme!"

Kurt laughed heartily, "just give it to her, babe."

Anna went to her purse and dug around until her hands emerged with two items. She handed over the thin envelope first, watched as Summer's brow furrowed as she felt the perforated stubs.

"Are these...movie tickets?" she frowned in concentration.

"Close," Anna teased.

Summer gasped, "concert tickets?"

"Maybe..."

"Tickets to see Dios Malos?"

Anna laughed gleefully and Summer tackled her, giggling also. "You got us tickets to go see Dios Malos?" She squeezed Anna breathless, both of them continuing to laugh goofily.

"C'mon, c'mon, c'mon," Kurt hauled Summer to her feet, then also helped Anna up. "A guy can only take so much."

Anna stuck her tongue out at him, and grabbed Summer's hand. "Where do you want to go for dinner, Birthday Girl?"

"Mr. Wong's!" Summer exclaimed happily.

Anna and Kurt shared a secret smile over the top of Summer's head, both glad to see her so enthused about going out. Anna remembered a time when it was like pulling teeth to get Summer to even leave the apartment. She was ashamed of her condition, she didn't want to carry a cane and she certainly didn't want a service animal. Anna would have to force Summer out to run errands with her, to the grocery store and to the post office.

Some of their worst fights had been over that. Anna didn't want Summer laying around the house, wasting away; Summer didn't want the entire world to know she was disabled and treat her like a slow child because of it. They would go days without speaking to each other, and then Anna would rearrange the furniture and force Summer to make up with her.

Anna shook her thoughts away and tucked Summer's second gift behind the mail file.

Summer collapsed into her bed, exhausted by her busy birthday evening. After a laughter-filled meal at Mr. Wong's, they'd gone to see Dios Malos play in the Park, and then Kurt had taken her and Anna for a carriage ride back towards their neighborhood. She knew she didn't deserve such good friends, but she was certainly glad she had them. She'd already made plans to go with Anna to Bloomingdales and Saks the next day to spend her birthday money from her father.

A tepid bath and small glass of iced lemonade had cooled her excited, overly-warm body. She'd be so glad when the summer was finally over. She had always loved the fall season best; she used to love when he mother would take her East for Thanksgiving break, to visit her grandparents. Her mother's parents had died while she was still very young, she couldn't even remember what they looked like, or what their names were. Her father refused to talk about any of it, but she could still recall vacations spent in Vermont, a halo of golden brown leaves and the crisp smell of autumn.

Late one summer night when she was a senior in high school, she and Seth were lying out on the beach behind his house, staring at the stars. She mentioned idly how much she used to love her mother's trips, the smell of burning leaves, and explosion of flame; red, orange and gold.

He hadn't said anything in response, not then, but that Thanksgiving he took her on vacation to New England, ostensibly to check out the local colleges. And though they had intended to fulfill that stated purpose, instead they'd spent the weekend lounging around in bed at the charming little B & B Seth had found, and taking leisurely drives through the country.

A sad, tight knot rose in her chest. Why was there always regret, like the darkest shadows of the night, sneaking in to turn laughter into tears? Summer was so tired of crying.

Those days had been some of the best of her entire life. There were many things she missed about Seth Cohen: the spicy scent of his aftershave, the little curl that always hung over his forehead, his quick wit and their steady banter. His sense of adventure, however, his spontaneity, was second to none. He orchestrated surprises and pranks with the precision of a brain surgeon. His painstaking attention to detail, his eidetic memory, his endless capacity for trivia; he was possibly the smartest person she'd ever known. And she'd never have him again. She put her fist to her mouth to muffle her sobs. It wasn't long before she had cried herself to sleep once again.

* * *

To be Continued...

* * *

A/N: I know this story is depressing as hell, so far, but I'm almost positive it will get better. Thanks for reading. 


	5. Fragile as We Lie

Seth Cohen had been suffering an unusual melancholy since his epiphany outside the bodega, one that had made him subsequently alarmingly quiet. Ryan didn't know exactly what had happened, but it was serious. Seth came home and locked himself in his room with a case of beer, and without even muttering a 'hey buddy' in Ryan's direction. Ryan had seen Seth's moods sling-shot around enough in the last eleven years that they had legally been brothers that nothing much surprised him anymore—or worried him. But Ryan was worried now. Seth had been quiet for far too long—days, in fact. Ordinarily when Seth had a problem, he came to Ryan within the hour, particularly if it was lady-trouble. Though Seth hadn't had problems in the romance department for several years; not since…well, not for a while.

Ryan knew the source of Seth's anxiety; Summer's birthday was the anniversary of his arrival in Newport Beach, the day his own life had change irrevocably. He could never forget that date, and now, neither could Seth.

Ryan padded down the hallway towards Seth's bedroom.

"Seth."

Not a murmur came from within, though Ryan could hear the faint strains of 'The End of the Road.' Boys II Men had never meant good things around Casa de Cohen, though it certainly had been heard much less often at Apartemento de Cohen y Atwood. Upon returning to the States, his heart officially broken, a devastated Seth had forbidden the mention of Summer, and all things relating to Summer. Though he hadn't specifically said her name, Ryan understood that Seth's request encompassed Marissa Cooper. As Seth's brother, and his closest (okay, his only) friend, Ryan wanted to balance his respect for Seth's wishes with his respect for Marissa's feelings. So while he hadn't purposely avoided her, he hadn't gone out of his way to catch up with her, either.

Ryan knocked again. "Seth."

A low moan emerged from under the door. Ryan took that as his cue to enter. Seth was under a pile of covers, the wall unit blasting icy air throughout his bedroom.

"Jesus, Seth." Ryan crossed over to the air conditioner and flipped the switch. He hauled the duvet off the bed to reveal Seth, wearing only a pair of boxers and a bottle of wine, which was clenched in his right hand.

"Ryan, would you care to join me for a drink?" Seth slurred.

Ryan rubbed his forehead, beleaguered. He folded his arms across his chest. "Get out of that bed and stop being so melodramatic."

"Drama is..." Seth began dreamily. "Hey, Ry, remember those stupid commercials on TNT when they used to get those B and C list actors to define 'drama,' 'member? Drama is..." Seth hiccuped, then sighed. He took another swig from the bottle. "What does Whoopi Goldberg know about drama anyway?"

"She won an Oscar for _Ghost_," Ryan pointed out dryly.

"_Ghost_, Schmost. It still doesn't make up for _Made In America_ or _Sister Act_. Or all of those interminable nights she hosted the Academy Awards..."

"Seth!"

Seth sobered up enough to lift his head from the pillow and reply angrily. "What, Ry? _What_?"

"Drinking yourself into a coma isn't going to bring her back."

Seth's head dropped back onto the pillow. He sighed. "Yeah, but it might make me feel better."

"I can guarantee it won't," Ryan retorted wryly.

"Life sucks," Seth groaned, reaching for his missing blanket. "It's freezing in here."

"Get up," Ryan commanded. That tone of voice sent chills down Seth's spine.

"Okay, okay," Seth relented, sitting up and swinging his legs around to the side of the bed, scratching his balls lazily. Ryan, satisfied that Seth was finally going to get out of bed, turned and headed for the door.

Over his shoulder, he said, "The guys are coming over to play cards."

Seth nodded, yawned, and then scratched his chest.

"I'm going to make a run to the liquor store for beer..."

"What else do we need?"

"Chips."

Seth screwed up his face. "Fuck. I have a headache."

"Don't bitch to me, you did it to yourself."

"Touché. I guess I'll go down to the corner," Seth reached for his shirt, pulling it over his head, tousling his messy hair even more. _Practice Safe Lunch, Use a Condiment!_ it warned cheekily. Ryan snorted, and rolled his eyes.

"I left a ten on the kitchen counter. I'll be back in a half hour," Ryan adjusted his wrist cuff and left Seth searching his floor for a still-slightly-clean pair of jeans.

* * *

_"Write it, Coop!" Summer demanded churlishly. _

_"Sum," Marissa protested weakly. _

_"Write it!" _

_Marissa knew that despite her protests, she would bend under the pressure. She'd never been able to deny Summer anything. "Summer, he's going to know that you didn't write this." _

_"How?" she asked, irritation evident. _

_"Our handwriting looks nothing alike!" _

_"Do you remember that time in the 9th grade when I bet you Dane Campbell wouldn't do a line off of my stomach and then he did and you had to do my algebra homework for three weeks?" _

_Marissa nodded, dumbly, then realizing Summer couldn't see her, she spoke up, clearing her throat. "Yeah." _

_Summer pushed the paper and pen back towards Marissa. "We fooled Mrs. Locke, we can certainly fool Seth Cohen."_

_"He's your **boyfriend**, Summer. Your **fiancé**. He'll totally know." _

_"He **was** my boyfriend, and he won't even notice. He's like, the most selfish person I know. He'll totally make this all about him. He won't even notice that it doesn't look exactly like my writing…Except for me." _

_"Huh now?" Marissa knit her brows. _

_Summer sighed. "I said Cohen was the most selfish person I know…except for me." _

_Marissa placed a hand on my friend's knee. "You're not selfish, Sum; you're just in shock. Why don't you just wait a little longer before you do anything drastic?" _

_"A few more days isn't going to change my mind, Coop. I might as well leave him before he finds out the truth and leaves me first." _

_"Give him some credit, Sum. He's totally crazy about you. You don't even know…" _

_"Write the goddamn letter." Summer's voice was cold. She was tired of having this same, fruitless, pointless argument. She would have her way, she always did. _

_Marissa threw up her hands. "Fine, fine." She took the pen gingerly between her thumb and forefinger. "Okay." _

_"Dear…Cohen." _

_Marissa frowned. She'd known Summer far too long to think that anything Summer had composed in her head would be compassionate or conciliatory. It was probably just brutal honesty; or rather, brutal not-honesty. _

'Dear Seth,' _Marissa wrote. _

_"I don't love you anymore."_

_Marissa's brow furrowed, her heart sinking. She sighed heavily before continuing to write. _

'There comes a time in every woman's life when she has to make choices about her future.'

_"I found another man, he satisfies me much more than you ever could." _

'How do I know that you're the man for me, forever? I've met this nice guy in the neighborhood, and we've been spending time together. He's nice, and funny, and I think…'

_"What's taking so damn long?" Summer asked impatiently. _

_"You try forging someone else's handwriting convincingly." _

_Summer huffed. _

'…I might love him.'

_"See ya." _

_"See ya?" Marissa asked, derisively. "We might as well sign it, 'smell ya later.'" _

_Summer sighed, put upon. "Fine...'Sincerely yours.'" _

'I've loved you with all of my heart, Seth. Now I just have to see if you're the one for me. Please don't write, or call, or come by. I need to figure this out…'

_"What are you writing now?" _

_"I'm telling him you don't want to see him, and not to bother coming by." _

_"Oh, that's good thinking." _

_Marissa rolled her eyes… _'on my own. I will come to you when—if—I am ready. I'm sure you will find someone who's not so selfish, and could love you much more than I ever could. Please forgive me. Sincerely, Summer.'

_"Good," Summer smiled, but there was no joy in the expression. My address book is on the vanity. Go to the Post Office and overnight it to him." _

_"Yes, your highness," Marissa said under her breath as she took Summer's address book and purse off the vanity. "I'll be back in a few minutes!" she announced, before leaving the room. _

_It was a Thursday._

_

* * *

_  
Anna came dragging through the door on Tuesday afternoon feeling like she'd been put through the ringer. Her father's meddling on her behalf at the auction house where she worked only four days a week now meant that she was the resident golden-boy—loved by her superiors and hated by her peers. They'd yet to do anything too malicious, but the gossip mill had been running all week that she was Senator Stern's youngest child, graduated from Yale by the skin of her teeth, and that she had enough venereal diseases to sterilize her for life.

The truth was, she was Senator Stern's only child, she'd graduated from Yale in the top five percent of her class and she'd had only two lovers in her entire life: a steady girlfriend throughout college, and now Kurt, an immigrant son of German-born parents who believed her to be God's gift to men. More specifically, to him.

She could sympathize with envy, or even with jealousy, she'd felt enough of it in her own short life to recognize it for what it was; what she could not tolerate, however, was cruelty. Anna realized early in life that there was value in bowing out gracefully, accepting inevitable defeat, and she didn't understand why others did not. Everyone she worked with knew that she had a contract with the auction house, and that she would likely be there for at least two years. Logically, there was no sense in badmouthing her, considering they would all be colleagues for quite some time. Moreover, they should have recognized the fact that if Anna was so well-loved, which she believed that she was, she could very well be their superior in short order. Ergo, it made absolutely no sense to gossip so viciously about her. Curiously enough to Anna, she found that many people rarely used stunning powers of logic during these circle-jerks of back-biting. As if it wouldn't ever get back to her…

Summer was looking cool and comfortable nestled in the corner of their smart leather sofa, her posture impeccable. Anna collapsed into the matching armchair next to her roommate and sighed heavily.

"Hard day at work, shnookums?" Summer teased.

"A cakewalk, pookie. You?"

Summer gestured around their empty apartment. "It's a rat race."

"Clearly," Anna remarked, sighing again.

Summer's nimble fingers continued to fly across the page, though she noticed the exasperated mood of her companion. She didn't comment, however; Anna would come to Summer with her problems when she was ready. She always did.

Anna jostled Summer's knee. "What'cha reading?"

"Flaubert," Summer responded, still concentrating intently.

"_Madame Bovary_ again?"

"What can I say?" Summer shrugged. "It's a classic. Plus, it's metaphorical and stuff. I like it. I used to read it all the time to that incontinent guy back when I was a candy-striper," Summer stifled a sad sigh of her own. Anna had become a master at reading her friend, and she did not miss the momentary tragic expression that flitted across Summer's face.

"Enough moping!" Anna announced, standing and stretching. "Let's go to the park. We need fresh air…and an ice cream cone!"

"Let me get a hat, it's still hot out," Summer agreed easily, standing also. "I don't want to burn."

"Says the girl who used to consider tanning an art form," Anna teased.

Summer shrugged again, but a smile ghosted across her lips. "With no one to see it but you, it just sort of seems like a waste of time now."  
"Hey, you're the only one stopping you on that account. Guys would be lining up around the block for you, if you'd let them. The girls, too," Anna laughed.

Summer gave her an amused look, and rolled her eyes. "Make your little jokes all you like," she turned up her cute little nose imperiously and Anna lurched forward impulsively and crushed her friend into a hug.

"Go get your hat, silly girl."

* * *

To Be Continued... 


	6. You're Lost Quite Classically

"So my father swears he had nothing to do with it, but I just know he was tiptoeing around in the background, making sure I was the shoo-in applicant," Anna was explaining as she and Summer strolled down the sidewalk towards the local park. Slowly, Anna had been encouraging Summer to get out more, to be comfortable around children once again. At first, her efforts had been met with the kind of stubbornness that would have made Sandy Cohen proud. Painstakingly, Anna was breaking down the walls Summer had so carefully erected in the days following the accident.

"If you really wanted to get the position on your own, why did you even tell him in the first place?" Summer frowned, bringing Anna back into the conversation.

"Well, my father's like the Gestapo. Even if I hadn't told him, he would have found out. And he intimidates me, so sometimes it's just easier to let him have his way," Anna sighed. Summer could imagine her bangs fluttering upwards with each heavy exhalation. Anna tightened her grip on Summer's hand as they approached the crosswalk. Summer easily came to a stop.

"It amazes me how someone as independent as you are would let her father boss her around the way you let him," Summer argued candidly.

"I know, I know," Anna laughed in defeat. "I'm working on it. I've now managed to go an entire week without having to speak with him. I'm a natural avoider, apparently. I've got the Mission Impossible theme programmed into my phone for when he calls."

"That'a girl," Summer nodded resolutely, rocking forward on the balls of her feet. "Are you still wearing the pink top?"

Anna laughed, "yes, why?"

"Well, as long as we're holding hands and everyone thinks we're girlfriends, I want to make sure you look cute enough to be seen with me."

Anna threw back her head and laughed. The little man on the cross-walk lighted up white and she led Summer across the street, jostled by passing pedestrians that were clearly in more of a hurry than the two friends. Denizens of their dark and dirty city merely mirrored their surroundings. Summer had thought Anna crazy when Anna first suggested they move in together; and in New York City, of all places.

Anna insisted it was time that Summer got away from Newport, away from her privileged little lifestyle, and away from all of the people that she was now afraid would find out her dirty little secret.

NYC was still close enough to Pittsburgh to allow Anna to visit any time she felt like it, but far enough away to discourage routine interference by family members into her daily life.

Once inside the wrought iron gates of the large park, Anna found an unoccupied bench far enough from the screaming children so as not to be annoying, but close enough to revel in the overall comfort of the atmosphere. She stretched her neck, basking in the late summer sunshine.

Next to her, Summer sat daintily, pulling her demure skirt down over her knobby knees, her straw hat pulled low on her brow. Anna almost laughed at the picture Summer made, but Summer would take it the wrong way. So instead Anna swung her legs sideways and moved down until she was laying down across the bench, her head in Summer's lap. It wasn't long before she had dozed off, as she loved to do, sunning herself like a turtle.

* * *

Seth wasn't sure why he walked past the corner store without going in, later he would attribute it to fate, or possibly dumb luck. He decided to walk off his hangover, which technically wasn't possible, but he couldn't stand feeling idle any longer, and so he wandered on like a blind man.

He passed O'Malley's, the famous cop bar, then several other grocery and liquor stores, and even past his favorite video store, Keeping it Reel. He ended up at the park on the corner a few blocks away, resting his chin between the bars of the black iron fence. When his father used to bring him to the City to visit his Nana, this was the very park they would come to together to fly their kites and make his Nana chase him around until she was breathless.

He watched kids run and play and squabble. There were two little boys with bright blond hair sitting in the sand box, twins. They reminded Seth of Ryan, or rather, what Ryan would have been like as a toddler, though understandably Seth had never seen the baby photos that would have proved him right. The Cohens, on the other hand, spent the first five years of Seth's life with cameras attached to their hands, and there was a library full of photo albums as evidence of that fact.

The twins' harried mother sat a few feet away, fanning herself. Beyond them, a little girl was hanging upside down from the monkey bars, her shirt falling down to obscure her face. Her nanny was yelling at her from across the playground to tuck her shirt into her pants and to stop flashing the world.

Seth grinned, his eyes wandering over to the slide where a bossy young miss was directing traffic in the jungle gym, her bright curly pigtails reminding him of Margaret from the Dennis the Menace comic strips. Margaret was living up to her new namesake, shoving one little boy after another down the hot silver slide. Several young mothers were congregated behind the swing sets close by, chatting, as they pushed their babies gently in lazy-rocking arcs.

Behind them, a hugely pregnant woman sat, eating an ice cream cone and watching the other mothers wistfully. Seth wondered what she was thinking about, if she was sad, or just needed something else. He loved watching people, and far more interesting than the happy smiling faces, were the pensive ones. What had brought them to this point in their lives? What suffering had they known that Seth would never know? It was impossible to discern, sure, but it didn't stop him from tracing their faces with his eyes, trying, just once, to glimpse what lay beneath.

A grandmother was beneath a tree beyond the bench, reading to two very sleepy grandchildren who were curled up in the folds of her skirt, which was spread beneath them on the rise. Seth smiled.

Across the cobblestone pathway two college-aged boys played Frisbee with a collie that leaped through the air to catch the disc. Another young woman struggled with her large red dog, which had a squirrel treed and was barking madly at it. Even from two hundred feet away, he could hear her hollering the dogs name, pulling at her collar in vain.

"Emma! Emma, stop it!"

His mother had never let him have a dog, for precisely that reason.

"They're more trouble than they're worth, Seth, trust me on this," he heard her angelic voice as if she were standing right next to him. He grinned again, continuing to peruse the sundry folks who apparently either didn't have jobs, or were playing hooky, like him.

His eyes fell on a pair of girls on a black wrought iron bench that matched the fencing that surrounded the park. The blonde was laying down, but her hands were moving gracefully in the air above her face in lazy gestures, so he was certain that she wasn't asleep. Her companion was exotically dark, her face obscured by a ridiculously floppy straw hat. He stared at them for a few moments, entranced. The brunette sat up straighter, cocked her head as if she'd heard her name called from across the crowded park and he saw her face.

"Sweet Jesus," Seth breathed.

Summer Roberts, in all her glory. Summer Roberts, and now that he looked closely, Anna Stern, cuddled up to her as if she were Summer's best friend in the world. He'd waited almost three years for this moment, to see her again. And now, by pure coincidence... this could be nothing short of fate. His breath caught in his throat, wondering what she would do when she saw him. Would she even speak to him?

Seth left his post on the outside of the park and headed for the gate, quietly approaching the pair.

* * *

"So Alan tells Traci, who tells Clark, and then before I know it, my boss is hovering over my desk asking if it's true that I'd been bragging that I had already slept with half of the marketing department."

"You're kidding!" Summer's voice, so far as Seth could tell, sounded the same, rough still, but drizzled with honey.

"I wish I was," Anna replied ruefully, still staring up at the perfectly cloudless azure sky. She really didn't have a right to complain, she knew. She had a good job, a home of her own, which she shared with a best friend. She wasn't in any way impoverished, it made her feel selfish to feel sorry for herself, so she made a point not to wallow in self-pity. Sometimes, however, she just needed to vent.

Summer brushed hair off of Anna's forehead tenderly. "Just ignore them. They're idiots, and if they can't respect you for who you are... well, you just come home and I'll make you feel better."

"I appreciate that," Anna sighed, smiling. She grabbed for Summer's hand, and held it against her cheek. "Thanks."

For no real reason, a tickle of unease danced down Anna's spine, and she stiffened. There was a change in the air, somehow. She turned her head suddenly towards the park.

Like a man in a dream, Seth Cohen was standing less than ten feet away, staring directly at Summer. His eyes darted to Anna for just a second, and then back again to an oblivious Summer. Anna quickly looked up to see Summer staring back at Seth, her dark eyes looking right past him. His mouth hung upon in surprise. Anna sat up quickly, disengaging from Summer's touch.

"Anna?" Summer faltered

Anna continued to stare at Seth in silence, mouth agape.

"Anna?" Summer said again, more panicked. She reached a hand out and Anna grasped it firmly.

"Sorry, Summer…I just thought I saw someone I knew," Anna locked eyes with Seth and saw realization dawning on his face. Her gaze held a warning. "Hey, I see the ice cream cart, I could totally go for a vanilla cone. You want anything?"

"No, the last thing I need is to get fat," Summer responded dryly.

Anna forgot about Seth for a moment, "...well, but on the upside, you won't see the cellulite spread."

"What cellulite?" Summer asked, shrill.

Anna chuckled nervously, as Seth took another step closer. "You haven't got an ounce of fat and you know it."

Summer's cheeks flushed a healthy pink and Anna murmured, "be right back." She pulled a spellbound Seth across the park towards the ice cream cart, safely out of earshot.

"When, Anna?"

"You know when," Anna replied, her voice kind, though her words were not. "I'm sorry. I know I should have called to tell you, but Summer begged me not to. Nobody knows, Seth."

"The car accident?" he asked, dumbly.

Anna nodded.

_There__is no other man. She lied to me. There's no one else_.

"Is it permanent?" he asked, grasping Anna by her biceps and pulling her closer, compelling her to talk. All she could do is nod.

Seth released her. "I want to talk to her."

Anna shook her head emphatically. "Seth, please. Wait. She won't react well to this, not here. Maybe not at all. I know she won't be able to handle the shock here in public," she argued passionately.

Seth shook his head, "No. I need to talk to her. Now."

"Be reasonable," Anna commanded, no-nonsense now. "If she flips out, it will be _me,_ not you, that has to deal with that."

"I can't just _not_ talk to her," Seth retorted, unable to meet Anna's eyes.

Anna sighed heavily. "Fine, here's the deal. You come by the apartment tonight, after Summer has gone to bed, and we'll talk."

Seth looked uncertain, but Anna pressed her hand into his reassuringly.

"I promise I'll explain everything. Just...just don't do anything stupid."

Seth shot another heartbroken look towards the woman that he still adored, and nodded, knowing that Anna was right, at least for now. "What time should I come?"

"Ten-thirty, eleven. Not too early. Do you know where we live?"

"I'll find it."

Anna hurried back over to Summer, leaving Seth behind her without a backward glance. She took her friend's arm and pulled upwards, to her feet. "Summer, let's go home. There's a guy on the other side of the park that's giving us a funny look. I'm going to hail a cab."

Summer nodded, gathering her bag in a quiet efficiency, unaware that Seth was trailing a few steps behind them, watching them cross towards the gate and catch a cab. Anna turned just before ducking down into the backseat next to Summer and gave him a plaintive look that almost unhinged him. He sighed as the cab drove away, and forced his eyes northwards.

* * *

_The phone rang once, twice, and Summer reached it breathlessly just before the fourth ring. Exercising wasn't all it was cracked up to be. _

_"Hello?" she panted. _

_"Schtupping the yard guy while I'm gone?" Seth teased, his voice sounding tinny on the international call. _

_"Ewww, Cohen, the yard guy is **so** Marissa. At least give me a little credit and say cabana boy. I like those short shorts he wears when he cleans the pool." _

_"How are you, sugar?" Seth asked, his voice lowering intimately. _

_"Good. Are you having fun in Milan?" _

_"We're actually in Vatican City this week. I've seen the Pope-mobile twice already." _

_"The **Pope-mobile**?" Summer rolled her eyes. "Why are you even at the Vatican? We've agreed that we're firmly committed to the Jewishness of your father." _

_"Hey, hey, now. There's no reason our future progeny can't know about their background of mixed faith. Your father's Catholic, your mother was Muslim, my mother is Protestant, and only by virtue of inheriting my father's coloring did I also inherit the Jew-hood," Seth teased. "If I looked like Ryan, we'd probably have to be Lutherans." _

_Summer laughed, still a little out of breath. _

_"What **were** you doing, anyway?" Seth asked, curiosity finally getting the better of him. _

_"Masturbating madly while dreaming about your joystick hands," Summer teased back, huskily, before flopping backwards onto the mattress. _

_Seth groaned piteously. "Summer, it's not fair to torment a man who's six thousand miles away." _

_"Quit complaining, at least your hands are still there with you, instead of where they belong, here with me." _

_"You're an evil woman, Summer Roberts." _

_"Not evil," she argued, contemplatively. "Just...horny." _

_Seth groaned again. "The tour group is waving me over, I have to go now. I love you." _

_"I love you too. Don't let any of those hot Italian babes get too cozy." _

_"They love the 'fro," Seth joked. _

_"Just remember you have an American girl Stateside that's crazy for you," Summer murmured. _

_"Hold that thought..." Seth whispered, his breath coming in short puffs. He was walking. "...until tonight. I'll call you about eight." _

_"I'll be waiting." _

_"Love you. Bye," Seth hung up before she could repeat the sentiment. It didn't matter, though. He already knew._

_

* * *

_

To be Continued...


	7. We Foresee the Mercy

Seth's heart pounded painfully as he rode the elevator up to the third floor, making his chest feel like a kettle drum. He struggled to catch his breath. He hadn't felt this nervous since the day he came home from his summer in Portland. He hadn't known what to expect when he got there; he thought his mother would have at least yelled at him, but she hadn't. She had taken him and Ryan into a huge hug and cried, telling them how glad she was that they were both back. He thought everything would be alright, that things would go back to normal. Then, eight months later, his dad shipped her off to rehab. Seth had learned the hard way that repercussions were not always immediate. The summer she spent drying out was the worst of his life, and not just because he felt guilty about sending her down the spiral of alcoholism. It was a lot of things. It was seeing his father so desolate. It was Ryan, feeling responsible also. It was the death of his grandfather.

And in the end, it had been Summer, the most unlikely of allies, who had helped him work through it all. She hadn't sugarcoated anything, or told him it wasn't his fault, because he knew in a way, she thought that it was. But just by taking things one day at a time, in his relationship with her in particular, made him realize that regret had to be left behind. He didn't want to end up like Caleb...alone, or worse, with someone like Julie Cooper.

Seth tipped the doorman as he disembarked. On the one hand, he was relieved that Summer hadn't left him for another man, and he would even hazard to say that she probably still loved him. On the other hand, he could hardly bear the agony of knowing she would never be able to see him again, to see anything again. His anger upon first seeing her in the park had melted away almost instantly, he understood everything she'd been feeling, as his own rioting emotions were making it impossible to think about anything else. His stomach clenched queasily as he approached the door, and he took a deep calming breath before knocking as softly as he could. It didn't help much.

Anna must have standing just on the other side of the door, waiting, because she opened it almost immediately and beckoned him inside.

"She's asleep," she whispered, leading him towards the sofa. "I shouldn't have brought you here... but I didn't know what else to do. I wasn't thinking."

Seth glanced around their neat, tidy apartment. There was no clutter, the furniture was pushed back against the walls to leave as much open space as possible; only practical, considering. The room was airy, bright, with creamy neutral tones for the walls and carpeting and dark brown accents. A large print of a pastel yellow tulip hung against the living room wall, obviously Anna's choice; Summer hated the color yellow.

Tasteful leather sofas dominated the living room, along with classy mahogany end tables. A large lamp in the corner was the only source of light, bathing the room in a soft glow.

Anna sat on the sofa facing the door, offering him a seat adjacent to hers. She'd grown her hair out longer, it was down around her shoulders, still as bright blond and smartly-styled as it had ever been. She had changed for bed, or for a workout at the very least. Maybe she did yogalates. Her hips were slim in the stretchy gray pants; and her tank top accentuated just how thin her arms were. She had French blue socks with small yellow ducks on them.

"Patitos." Seth said.

"Excuse me?"

He pointed. "Patitos. Ducklings."

"Oh."

They stared at one another for a long moment. His expression was mournful; hers uncertain. Should she have even invited him back here, like this? She was asking for trouble. All Summer would have to do is wake up, hear his voice... Her dark eyes filled with tears, brimming, but not overflowing. He rubbed his hand wearily across his face. "Oh, Anna."

Her voice cracked. "I knew that you would find out, eventually. I just didn't think it would be this soon," she replied truthfully. She angrily wiped her tears away.

"I didn't mean to upset you."

"You didn't," Anna blew her nose, cleared her throat.

"What happened to her?"

"She had a stroke," Anna answered simply.

"She _what_? How is that even _possible_?"

Anna sighed. "Your parents told you about the car accident, right?"

"That one she had the summer I was in Italy..." Seth's brow furrowed. "They told me that was nothing. Her father called them, and told them it was nothing."

"It wasn't nothing," Anna shook her head.

Seth started, his mouth hanging open slightly. He raised a hand, then lowered it. "How is that even possible?" He asked again. "I mean, she wasn't even twenty four yet."

"Anyone can have a stroke, especially with a trauma. And that's what happened, after the accident. She blacked out in the ambulance on the way to the hospital. She was unconscious for almost a week."

"And she woke up blind."

"She woke up blind," Anna parroted solemnly.

"That's ridiculous," Seth blustered, leaping from the couch. "I mean, the miracles of modern medicine, surely there's a surgery that can be done, or something. Or just time...I mean, people wake up out of comas all the time..."

"She's not in a coma, Cohen. She's not going to snap out of this. Don't you think we've thought of everything by now?"

He crossed to the fireplace mantle and rested his head against it. Without looking at Anna, he asked, "It's permanent?" though he already knew the answer.

"It's been almost three years, and she's never going to have it any better than she does right now. She doesn't have headaches anymore, which the doctors told us was a good sign, because it means that it's nothing more serious," Anna's hands fluttered nervously. "But she also doesn't have any sensitivity to light, or shadow. She's never going to regain..."

"Why didn't she tell me?" The utter heartbreak in his voice was enough to leave Anna breathless. She crossed over to where he stood, and wrapped her arms around him from behind.

"Because she didn't want you to leave her," she replied candidly. "And don't tell me you wouldn't have thought about it, Seth, because I know you. I know you all too well. You may not have done it, but you would have thought about it," she released him from her embrace, and he turned to watch her move back to the couch and take her seat. "Summer...she's very sensitive. I can't so much as change an expression without her being able to feel it."

"So? I still would have stayed!"

"And do you think she would have _wanted_ that?" Anna argued passionately, quietly. "Do you think she would have _wanted_ you to stay when you obviously felt like she was a burden? She would be able to feel everything you felt, Seth, and she would have hated you for it."

Seth was, for once, utterly speechless.

"Seth, I love her more than anything. If you're here to pity her, or pity me, or ...anything, you can just leave. We've been doing just fine without you."

"Why are you angry with me?" Seth asked quietly, crossing back over to where she sat and flopping down on the couch next to her.. "I haven't done anything wrong."

"I don't know!" Anna replied, miserable. Her tears finally began slipping down her cheeks. "This just couldn't have come at a worse time. We've finally gotten to where she'll go out, and she's finally growing out of the constant moody hatefulness. She's learned how to read Braille, and to cook and clean. I'm just frustrated. This is going to set her back."

They sat silently for several minutes, Seth in a stunned silence and Anna in guilty contemplation. Seth looked up, startled, when Summer appeared in the doorway, almost soundlessly. Anna rose immediately, alarmed, but Seth remained quiet.

"Anna?" Summer's voice sounded soft and childlike to Seth's ears, too long denied the pleasure of hearing her speak.

"I'm here, I thought you were going to bed."

"I was, I just forgot my water glass."

"I think I put it back up, I'll go get it," Anna shot Seth a look admonishing him not to utter a word. She returned quickly, and as she approached, Summer's spine stiffened.

"Anna, are we alone?"

"No," Anna answered honestly, not offering any other information.

"Guy or girl?" Summer hissed.

"Guy, but don't worry, you're fine," Anna soothed, adjusting the collar of Summer's plain cotton nightgown slightly. She handed over the water glass.

"Okay, I'm going to bed. Night," Summer presented a rosy cheek for a kiss, Anna obliged with a quick peck.

"G'night."

After Summer retreated, Anna turned back to Seth, who had leaned forward on the sofa, his hand covering his mouth. Anna saw grief and confusion warring across his countenance, and her heart was filled with compassion. She settled next to him on the couch and pulled him into her arms. From over her shoulder, she heard a cracked sob and then a flood of tears started.

Seth couldn't remember the last time he had actually cried, but it was coming so naturally as he clung to Anna fiercely. The Summer he remembered was far less docile, so much more demanding. The Summer he knew wouldn't have left the room without knowing who was there and for what purpose. But she'd gone straight back to bed without a word. He wasn't sure what was more disconcerting about the whole thing: the fact that Anna was subtly lying to her, or the fact that Summer let her.

"Does she still love me?" He finally asked when his tears had subsided.

"I don't know," Anna shrugged helplessly. "She doesn't talk about you anymore. She doesn't talk about much of anything anymore," she mused, more to herself than to him.

"I have to talk to her," Seth insisted.

Anna sighed heavily. "I knew that you would want to...I mean, I knew this was coming. I don't know why I'm so unprepared." She cradled her head in her hands, pressing a palm against her forehead. "We have to find away to bring this gently."

"I need to find out," Seth rocked forward, propping his elbows up onto his knees. "I need to find out if she still loves me."

Anna's head shot up suddenly. "Seth, this isn't about _you_."

"It would be just as much for her as it was for me," Seth shook his head emphatically.

"Yes, but have you really thought this through?"

"Have I thought _what_ through? Whether or not I still love her? No, I don't_ have_ to."

"Seth."

"Anna," he mimicked, not unkindly.

"She's...she's _different_ now. You're remembering a person that doesn't really exist anymore. She's meaner, she's bitter. More bitter. She can't stand to be in the same room with children, it makes her so sad. She hates being outside without another person to help her. She's terrified of being mugged. She ran away from you because she didn't want you to reject her. And if you hurt her now, I swear to God, I'll kill you."

"I need her, Anna. She's the only woman I've ever loved."

A shadow of sadness passed across Anna's face momentarily, darkening her features the way a cloud darkens the Earth when it passes over the sun. "I guess. But Summer isn't the same person that you fell in love with anymore. She's not going to just come running back to you just because she knows you know."

"I can win her back, though," he swore, defiant. "I have to win her back. I can't live without her, An."

Anna sighed again. "I'll think of something. For now, though, you better leave. I'll call you tomorrow."

"Thanks," Seth stood, then leaned forward impulsively and kissed her forehead. "You're a good friend, you know that?"

Anna shooed him away with her hands, and he left without another word. She dropped her head into her hands once more. Shit.

* * *

_The phone rang three times before Anna was able to find it tangled in the bedsheets, and she cursed at herself for not putting it back on the charger, where it belonged. She glanced at the LCD screen briefly, it was a California area code, though she didn't recognize the number. _

_"Hello?" _

_"Anna?" _

_She frowned. "Yes. Who's this?" _

_"Marissa. Marissa Cooper, from Newport." _

_"I remember," Anna answered, stilted. "How are you?" _

_"Oh, I'm fine," Marissa tried to sound cheerful, but Anna saw right through it. Marissa wouldn't be calling her, not unless... Seth? _

_"Not that I don't appreciate it, but why are you calling me?" _

_"I found your number in Summer's address book, I just wanted to call. You know, see how you were."_

_Anna held the phone out from her ear and gave it a twisted who-are-you-trying-to-kid?-smirk. _

_"Summer has my number in her address book?" she asked after a moment, surprised. Summer had not called her even one time since she'd moved back to Pittsburgh. _

_"Yeah...I think she's got you programmed into her phone, too," Marissa answered, distracted, as she scrolled through Summer's address book on her cell phone. _

_"Wow. Um, okay," Anna cleared her throat. "That still doesn't explain why you're calling." _

_Marissa sighed heavily. "See, that's the thing. I can't really tell you what's going on, because I sort of promised Summer I wouldn't." _

_"Okaaaaaay," Anna said, playing along with the typical Marissa drama. _

_"I...I can't handle it anymore. I don't know what to do. She won't let me talk to anyone about what's going on." _

_"So you want me to come back," Anna stated. Not a question. _

_"Yes," Marissa exhaled loudly. _

_"What's wrong with her? Will I know it when I see her?" _

_"Oh, yeah, you'll know," Marissa warned ominously. _

_"Will she even agree to see me?" _

_"Probably not. If I were you I would barge right in before anyone can stop you. Don't let the household staff scare you off, either. She may not want to let you in, but ..." _

_**"What's wrong with her?"** _

_"Please, Anna. Please just come." _

_Anna sighed and rolled her eyes. She wasn't going to get anything out of Marissa. She was about due for a visit with her parents, anyway. She shrugged. May as well..._

_

* * *

_

To be Continued...


	8. The Rain, It Tumbled Down

"Stern," Anna answered her phone briskly, the manner in which she felt was most professional. Above her, the air conditioner whirred to life. Sooner or later, the heat wave had to break. Anna wondered idly if she would be first.

"It's me," Summer murmured, her tone dreamy.

Anna lowered her voice. "Hey," she breathed.

"Whoa. Are we talking dirty?" Summer laughed.

"Yes, I've decided to have fun with my bad reputation," Anna whispered. Then more loudly, "...so what are you wearing?"

"Is anyone even listening?" Summer asked, still giggling.

"No one important, if that's what you mean. Just the same old snoops." This time Anna laughed, too.

"Okay, seriously. Will you pick up some milk on your way home?"

"Sure," Anna grabbed a pad out of her desk drawer. "You want skim or soy?"

"Hmmm, soy."

"Gotcha. Anything else, 'Highness?"

"You could rent a movie, if you think about it," Summer suggested, her tone airy. Anna knew Summer all-too-well, she would be pissed if Anna _didn't_ think about it. Anna wrote 'movie' after 'soy milk' and 'French bread.'

"Any requests?"

"No, anything is fine," Summer promised.

"Don't forget, slacker, it's your turn to cook."

"I won't forget," Summer sounded offended. "You have to chop the vegetables, though. Can't lose any fingers."

Anna smiled. "I'll be home by six."

"Bye," Summer hung up before Anna could repeat the farewell.

Less than ten seconds later, the phone rang again. Anna grabbed the receiver again, grinning. "I suppose _now_ you have a request."

"Uh, Anna?"

Anna looked around furtively. No one appeared to be paying attention. "Seth?" she hissed.

"Hey. Why are we whispering?" He asked quietly.

"No reason," Anna whispered back. She drummed her pencil against the surface of her desk in an old, nervous habit.

"Okay," Seth agreed. "So..."

"So..."

"I want to see her again," he blurted.

"That's called, stalking, Seth, and it's illegal in almost every state," Anna retorted.

"Well, since you won't let me _talk_ to her, I'll take whatever I can get," Seth sighed.

"You've just got to give me time, Cohen. Let me work out a game plan. I can't just spring this on her out of the blue. I won't."

"Why not? She's not a child. You don't have to tiptoe around her this way."

"I think I know more about her than you do," Anna snapped. She immediately felt guilty. "I'm sorry. I'm just...stressed out. Look, I know she's not a child. But I also know how she gets. She's a different person, now, you have to remember that."

"I get it, Anna, I do. But I'm not just going to sit around indefinitely while you think of ways not to hurt her delicate baby feelings."

Anna narrowed her eyes. "First of all, I never asked you to wait 'indefinitely.' It's been a week. A week, Cohen. You haven't seen her for three years, you can wait a few more days."

"Fine," Seth let out an overly-dramatic exaggerated sigh.

"Call me Friday," Anna said softly.

"Will do, chickie. Bye." Seth hung up.

Anna stood up, straightened her skirt, and looked over to see two of her colleagues glancing over at her, and whispering. Oh, brother.

* * *

Four days later, Anna sat at the local Starbucks waiting for Seth. Her twitching foot knocked against the wobbly table; she smoothed her purple suede skirt over her knees. Her thighs were sweating, making the baby pink tights she wore underneath the skirt stick to her skin uncomfortably. She didn't know why she was so nervous, it was only Seth. Any casual observer would have thought she was waiting for the executioner. _Because you know you're betraying her_, a traitorous inner voice reminded her. She opened up the daily paper and laid it across the wrought iron table, futilely attempted to concentrate.

"Hey Anna," Seth slid into the seat across from her, bringing out his own Thermos. At her quizzical look, he explained. "Ryan makes the best coffee."

Anna raised her eyebrows, but didn't comment. She watched as Seth unscrewed the bright red cap, and then fill the little cup with the hot, bitter liquid. He drank it black; not what she would have expected at all. Ryan looked like he drank his coffee black...but Seth, Seth looked like he liked his sugar and cream with a little coffee on the side. When she used to kiss him, he always tasted of Cap'n Crunch and toothpaste, with just a hint of coffee underneath it all. Hmmm.

"So after I thought about it, I decided you were right," Anna announced. Seth crossed his foot over his knee and began jiggling the table. So, she wasn't the only one who was nervous; good to know.

"_Moi?_ Right about something? Never thought I'd hear anyone say that," Seth tried to laugh it off, but his dark eyes pleaded with her. _Please give me a chance. Just one more chance with her. _

"You were right about... I've been walking on eggshells with Summer for too long," Anna nodded, resolute. "And you're absolutely right, she's not a doll, and she's not going to break."

"I thought you didn't want to upset her..." Seth trailed off, bemused at Anna's sudden change of heart. It wasn't like Anna to be fickle, or indecisive. He couldn't believe he was arguing with her, after he'd fought for this.

"I don't. But the world is an upsetting place, and I'm not always going to be around to hold her hand, or shelter her. I'm her friend, not her mother."

Seth drew a deep breath. "Okay."

"Okay," Anna agreed.

"So, what? Do you want to meet for coffee or something?"

"Now that's where I will draw the line. I won't humiliate her in public."

"So you want to what? You want me to come over?"

Anna's mind raced. What would be most fitting? Nothing was really going to be fully appropriate, she knew. Summer was going to fly off the handle. She took a long sip of her latte, composing herself. "I was thinking I would tell her that we're going to have a small dinner party."

"I don't want to lie to her," Seth said, his uncertainty evident.

"It's not a lie. You and Ryan are invited over for dinner. Tomorrow night. I'll make dinner, and you come over at seven. Just be prepared, Seth."

"I'll try," Seth forced a weak smile. He made a show of checking his watch. He swallowed the rest of his coffee in a hasty gulp. "I have to go." He rose and leaned over to kiss her cheek. "Thanks, Anna."

"Bye, Cohen." She watched him walk away, his hands shoved into his pockets, his head down. He was still carrying a backpack, a bright blue one that was embroidered with the L.L. Bean logo. He had already pulled out his ipod and was adjusting the earpiece. Anna bit her lip, considered calling him back, telling him to forget all of this. It would be cruel to continue to string him along, but she wondered if was more cruel to make Summer confront a part of her life that she had purposefully put behind her.

Though Summer had never said it, Anna knew she was desperately unhappy. She knew that Summer pulled out her mementos when she thought no one would notice, touching them, remembering. She still had her engagement ring, she still had Princess Sparkle, and several of Seth's old shirts. She'd pull them out, bury her face in the Seth-smelling fabric, and sob.

Anna's heart buckled. She finally understood what her mother meant when she'd told Anna all those times before that life wasn't fair.

* * *

_"Anna! Anna, come do me a favor," Summer commanded. Anna made her weary way down the hall and into Summer's new bedroom. _

_"Last favor!" Anna insisted as she entered. _

_"Last favor," Summer agreed, searching blindly through the boxes. She cut a finger on a sharp corner, drew blood. "Shit." _

_"Let me see it," Anna crossed over to her, inspected the cut. "You'll live." _

_"Really, Sherlock?" Summer asked, her words harsh and forced. _

_"Don't be a smartass," Anna found it easier to boss Summer back with every day that passed. _

_"Will you find the picture of my mother, please, and put it on my bedside table?" _

_Anna frowned. "Why? You can't see it..." _

_"So? I want to know it's there." Summer huffed, blew her bangs out of her eyes. They were getting long, it was about time for a haircut. _

_Anna shrugged and rooted around in the box of framed photographs until she found the one Summer had been looking for. It was a black and white photo, in a black frame, taken on a cloudy day. Summer couldn't have been more than three years old, sitting on the lap of a remarkably unattractive woman. Her pretty frilly party dress was obviously not her choice, her lower lip stuck out in pouty defiance. As for her mother, a plain black dress obscured any womanly curves that she might have possessed. Long black hair had been knotted into a severe bun at the nape of her neck; her facial expression was caught between a smile and a frown. How very fitting for the woman who had given birth to such a strange, ethereal creature. _

_"Where is your mother now?" Anna asked in unabashed curiosity, dusting off the frame with the hem of her shirt sleeve. _

_"She's dead," Summer answered, matter-of-fact. _

_"Oh, I'm sorry," Anna murmured, moving over the side of the bed to place the picture reverently beside Summer's favorite music box and her bedside lamp. _

_Summer waved off Anna's concern. "I don't even remember her, really," she lied. "I'm surprised you haven't heard the stories." _

_Anna's eyebrows shot up to her hairline. Her spine prickled. "**What** stories?" _

_Summer's laugh was mirthless. "Everyone in Newport knows two things about my family. One is that my father is the best plastic surgeon on the West Coast, and an arrogant bastard. And two is that my mother offed herself." _

_Anna cringed at the crude wording and Summer's obvious hurt, and embarrassment. What a legacy to live with, especially in a place like Newport Beach, where gossip was considered a social science, and backstabbing an art. "What happened?" _

_"Who can say, really?" Summer asked bitterly. "Some say she jumped off a four story building downtown. Others say she shot herself with the pistol that my dad keeps in his office for protection." Summer was shaking with carefully controlled fury, her voice trembled more with every syllable she uttered. Hot tears sprang to her sightless eyes, making her feel ridiculous. _

_Anna cut through the bullshit. "What happened, Summer?" _

_Summer sat down on the edge of her bed, lifted her face up. "I found her floating in our swimming pool. She drowned herself." _

_Anna sank down next to her, covered her mouth with her hand. "Oh, Summer," she placed an arm around Summer's shoulder in a clumsy maneuver. _

_"Don't feel sorry for me!" Summer demanded, shaking her off. _

_Anna took Summer's chin in her hand, firm. "I don't feel sorry for you. I feel sorry for any person that feels that they have no other option than to take their own life. I feel sorry for anyone who is too selfish to think about a child that could stumble upon their dead body." She smiled, though Summer was crying fresh tears. "Why would I ever feel sorry for you, you big pain in the ass?" _

_Summer laughed, a short bark of laughter that bounced off the cheerful green walls of her bedroom, freshly painted. _

_"Thanks, Anna," she wiped her tears on her grubby tank top, exposing a swath of tummy that was still faintly golden from a long-ago tan. _

_Anna didn't answer her. "Any others you want out?" _

_Summer shook her head, mute, and felt, rather than saw Anna close the box and take it into her walk-in closet, for storage. "I put it at the back, so you won't trip over it later," Anna said when she emerged a few seconds later. _

_"Thanks," Summer said again, moving her head to the side as if to glance around at all the progress she was making unpacking. _

_"No problem," Anna answered. "I'm going back to the kitchen to finish unpacking the silverware. If you need something else, do it yourself." _

_Summer heard the grin that accompanied Anna's words, and returned it, her pearly teeth gleaming. For the first time, she didn't regret agreeing to move in with Anna. She still wasn't speaking to Marissa, that black-hearted traitor; and she hadn't spoken with her father in weeks, either. He was in Greece, or Turkey, or somewhere, she thought. Anna was about the only friend she had left, considering Seth and Ryan were out of the picture. She didn't talk with any of her old high school friends, and not a single one of her college buddies had called to check on her since the accident. For the first time in her life, Summer_ that Muslim girl _Roberts was utterly alone. _

_And then Anna had sailed in, just as bright and clear as the sunshine. She didn't take any of Summer's crap, and she didn't take any excuses. She didn't pander to Summer the way Marissa and the household staff had been doing for months. She insisted they move to New York, make a clean start of it. Anna had been offered a job in a bank, managing the high-dollar storage vault. She needed a roommate, preferably one with a disposable income. _

_Summer was tired of the idle life, she was tired of wasting away, feeling restless and bored. Anna didn't let her do that. Anna forced her to leave the house. Anna forced her to get up every morning and get dressed. Anna forced her to eat, and sleep, and all the other little things Summer had let slide in the weeks after the accident. Anna had made her want to live again. _

_That didn't mean she didn't have misgivings about this cockamamie plan to move to New York City, of all places. Anna had brooked no argument, however. All of Summer's excuses were met with the stone-wall of Anna's will. Her father had been glad to see her leave, though he didn't say it to her face. He never would. _

_Summer didn't know how long this would last, this arrangement, but it had to be better than anything in Newport Beach. She was ready to make a fresh start of it, a clean break from the life she had left behind. It was time to move on._

_

* * *

_

To be Continued...


	9. Please Don't Make Me Cry

Anna paced the kitchen floor, swilling the wine like it was water. She was going to need it, if she planned to maintain her fortitude through this whole ordeal. She felt like such a turncoat, and the more she thought about it, the guiltier she felt. She'd been working off the old principle that it was much easier to beg forgiveness than to obtain permission, but it felt wrong, somehow, betraying Summer in so blatant a manner. She had asked herself dozens of times how she would want to be treated in the same scenario. Anna knew she would want her wishes respected, especially regarding the sensitive matter of an ex-lover, an ex-betrothed, no less.

At the same time, Anna's heart wrenched for poor Seth, who despite his faults, was a genuinely good person. He tried so hard to do the right thing, and more times than not, it came back to bite him in the ass. He hadn't deserved to be treated as heartlessly as Anna knew that he had been in his breakup with Summer. And to find out the truth now, years later… No matter what she did, someone was going to get hurt.

Summer sat quietly on the couch, fidgeting as Anna bustled around the kitchen, preparing dinner. Anna had put a CD on the stereo, some whiny guy with a guitar singing about someone being strange and beautiful. Stalker.

"Who did you say was coming over?" Summer called to her.

Anna poked her head out of the doorway that led to the living room to glance at her friend. She cleared her throat, "I didn't. It's just some people from work."

"Oh. What are we having?" Summer asked, touching her belly lightly as it growled. All she'd had to eat was a bowl of Honey Smacks that morning, sans her usual side of strawberries because Anna had forgotten them the last time they'd gone to the grocery store. Even though Summer had reminded her. Twice. She just didn't know where Anna's head had _been_ lately; Outer Space...or worse, Pittsburgh. Ugh.

"I'm making Whistling Chicken, and some carrots and squash. I was thinking about running down to the market for some French bread before dinner."

"Sounds good. I love the yellow squash."

"Enjoy it while you can," Anna said, making conversation just to keep from thinking about what was coming. "The weatherman said we were getting a cold snap this weekend."

"It's about time," Summer muttered, lifting her hair off of her neck for a brief moment. Sweat trickled down the nape of her neck. Why she had decided on this dress, she wasn't sure, other than she remembered it once looked very becoming on her. It was perfect for her skin coloring, her hair. She sighed. She had a feeling this was going to be a long night.

* * *

Seth paced the kitchen floor in the apartment he shared with Ryan, taking vodka shots, hoping to bolster his courage. He was going to need it.

Ryan came padding down the hall, eyes downcast in an effort to buckle the brown leather belt that was hanging limply from his waist. His dress shirt was unbuttoned, revealing his smooth, tanned chest. Seth swallowed thickly.

Ryan looked up to see Seth standing in his boxers and his favorite t-shirt, the one that proclaimed, _Taxation with representation isn't so hot, either! _Secretly, it was Ryan's favorite, too. Seth was wearing one navy sock and one black. Ryan smirked.

"Planning on getting dressed any time soon?"

"I was just…uh. Just…"

"Getting sauced?" Ryan raised an eyebrow.

Seth squared his shoulders, "I'm getting ready."

"Ready for me to have to carry you home," Ryan muttered as he brushed past Seth over to the kitchen counter where the vodka bottle was sitting, open. He screwed the cap back on and put the bottle back in the cabinet. "Get dressed," he told Seth.

Seth sighed heavily, melodramatically. He wandered out of the kitchen and back towards his bedroom. Ryan knew he would spend an hour in front of the closet trying to decide what to wear. Ryan buttoned his own shirt up and gave a quick glance in the hall mirror at his hair. Perfect.

Five minutes later, he took a very purposeful stroll in front of Seth's bedroom door, and saw him standing in front of his closet, looking a little lost.

"You've got to be kidding me," Ryan said under his breath. Could nothing be easy with Seth? Ryan marched over to where Seth was standing and pulled out a black pair of slacks, and the only shirt he could find that looked like it had been ironed recently, a blue button-down.

"Ryan, this takes time," Seth shook his head at Ryan's selections.

"What does it matter, Seth? She can't see you!"

Seth's face crumbled, and Ryan cringed. He couldn't believe he just said that. What was he, heartless?

"Sorry, buddy," he offered softly, clapping a hand on Seth's shoulder. "It really won't matter what you're wearing, uh, even if she could see you. I think she's just going to be glad you came."

"Really?" Seth asked, his voice wavering.

"Yeah," Ryan handed him the shirt and watched Seth get dressed, hopping around on one foot to pull off the navy sock, and then again as he put on the matching black one.

Finally, they were both dressed, and pressed, and ready, and Ryan escorted Seth out of their apartment, and down the hall, assuring him that they hadn't forgotten anything, pushing him forward with every step.

It was in the cab, as Seth tossed and turned and wouldn't sit still for even a second, that Ryan was sure he was going to have to tie him to the seat, and gag him for good measure. He gritted his teeth.

It was in the elevator, when Seth asked for the eighth time if he smelled okay that Ryan was sure he was going to lose it, and kill Seth before the night was over. He clenched his fists.

It was in front of the door to the girls' apartment, when Seth was bending over, his head between his knees, taking deep exaggerated breaths, that Ryan gave up and decided to kill himself. He reached forward, and pressed his finger to the little circle of plastic, and from somewhere deep inside the apartment, he and Seth heard the answering chimes.

* * *

Though she had been expecting it, the sound of the doorbell startled Anna. Whether she was ready or not, this was happening, so she decided she would make the best of it, no matter what happened. She hurried to the door, smoothing the wrinkles from the front of her light linen shift. Her heart practically stopped beating as she watched Summer sit up straighter, adjusting the velvety fabric falling around her knees. She was still so proud, so regal. 

"Do I look alright?" she asked.

Anna stopped, mid-stride. She cleared her throat, her voice husky. "You look beautiful," she answered honestly.

She opened the door to find Seth, who was rocking back and forth on his heels with a palpable nervous energy. Ryan stood behind him, looking every bit the James-Dean-rebel, hands shoved deep into the pockets of his jeans, a perfect foil for Seth, who was still bouncing. She almost gagged at the overpowering scent of Seth's cologne. _Did he take a bath in it, or what? _

"Hi, guys," Anna said loudly, a little too cheerfully. She led them into the living room; Summer lifted her face expectantly. Anna closed her eyes for a moment, mentally preparing herself for the onslaught of fury that was certain to come the moment that Summer figured out exactly what was going on...

Seth stopped in the doorway, and the sight of Summer looking so lovely took his breath away. Her chestnut hair had been meticulously curled and the tendrils that ordinarily framed her face had been piled atop her head and secured with a burgundy ribbon. The neckline of her matching dress was designed to be modest, but the empire waist lifted her breasts so that the creamy swells were visible above the scoop-neck. The demure skirt was covering her knees, he could see black tights underneath. Her make-up had been applied impeccably, probably by Anna, and though her dark eyes were sightless, they were as deep and as boundless as they had ever been. Seth stepped closer, holding his breath.

"Summer, you know Ryan."

Summer's smile faltered slightly, her heart beginning to pound. "Ryan?" she asked, her expression perplexed.

"Hi, Summer," Ryan said, his voice gruff with disuse.

Recognition passed over her face, followed by a momentary glimpse of vulnerability. But it lasted _only_ a moment. "Chino," she answered flatly. The moment she smelled that familiar aftershave, the scent that she could never eradicate from her perfect memory, her back and neck tensed up ramrod-straight.

"Seth?" she breathed, her heart stopping mid-beat.

"Hi, Summer," Seth said, shy.

Her breath quickened, her heart began flutter, fast, too fast. The butterflies currently taking up residence in her stomach felt elephant-sized, she felt sick. If she could have seen the room around her, she felt certain it would have been spinning at precisely that moment, making her dizzy. Instead she merely felt lightheaded, a tad woozy. Seth was leaning in close, closer, and she pulled away immediately, her panic finally consuming her, though he had not uttered another word.

"Anna, how could you?" Summer cried, rising to her feet.

Tears were already beginning to trail down Anna's perfect, pale cheeks; shamed as she was by her presumption and her lack of delicacy and care. "Please, Summer, be reasonable," Anna pleaded, stepping forward. She tried to put her arms around Summer, to comfort her.

"Reasonable?" Summer jerked her arm away from Anna's firm grasp. "You...you... _ambush_ me in my own house, and you want _me_ to be reasonable?" she sputtered.

"Summer, please," Seth finally spoke. "I just want to talk to you."

"No! No! You can all just get out!" Summer crossed the room quickly and easily; anyone glancing at her from across a crowded room would never be able to guess her disability. She only slowed when she came to the small stairway that led down to the back hallway, and she reached a foot out unsteadily in order to step down.

Seth started to follow her, but Anna held her arm out to stop him. Before either one of them could take another step, Summer tripped on the last step and fell forward on her face with a strangled yelp.

Seth bolted over to where she lay, and without any warning, shoved his hands under her arms and lifted her to her feet.

"Let go of me!" she yelled, wrenching away as if she'd been slapped. "Don't touch me!" She backed up down the hall like a trapped animal, lashing out preemptively with her fists. When she reached the door to her room, she backed in and slammed the door shut.

Seth rushed forward, pressed himself against the wood veneer, sinking to his knees. "Please, Summer, talk to me."

"No, Seth! Go away!" Her voice was choked with tears, and he could tell she hadn't gotten far. She was sitting on the other side of the door.

"You don't even know what I'm going to say!"

"Go away, go away, go away!" Summer screamed, sobbing. He envisioned her sitting mere inches from where he was kneeling, hands clamped over her ears, determined not to hear a word he said.

"Summer, please," Seth was crying too.

Anna's voice from the top of the small set of stairs stopped him cold. "Leave her alone."

"Anna, please," he turned to her, pleading. "Talk to her."

Anna laughed, a little cruelly, he thought. "You think she's going to listen to me, now? She's the most stubborn ass I've ever known. She won't come out tonight."

Seth stumbled to his feet, and then stepped away from Summer's bedroom door clumsily, unwillingly.

"I think you should leave," Anna stated, bluntly.

"I think we should, too," Ryan came to stand behind her, setting a warm hand on her shoulder, calming her. She was trembling uncontrollably, her stomach spasming into knots, like a fist clenching. "Come on, Seth," he prodded when Seth made no move to come any closer to the pair.

"I don't want to leave her," Seth insisted stubbornly.

Anna brought her hand to her face. "I knew this was a mistake. I knew I shouldn't have done this," she moaned, more aggravated by her own stupidity than anything else. She should have known this was not going to end well. There would be no happy ending for Summer and Seth, she'd known that all along. So why? _Why had she agreed to this? _"Leave, Seth. Leave before it gets worse."

He snorted, wiping angrily at his own tears. "How could it get any worse?"

From behind Summer's door, the shattering of glass startled all three.

Anna turned back to Seth, accusingly. He closed his eyes, clearly distraught.

"Seth, let's go," Ryan insisted. Seth came towards him, but slipped under Ryan's arm, away from his touch.

He left the apartment, slamming the door behind him. More glass shattered. An extra-loud sob came from behind Summer's door.

"God, I need a drink," Ryan muttered, rubbing his face.

"Tequila?" Anna offered, wearied.

"Got any limes?"

Anna nodded.

"Let's do it."

Outside, the temperature began to fall.

* * *

To be Continued... 


	10. You Are My Scar

Anna had downed two shots in quick succession before she even felt like she could speak. Ryan just watched her, matching her shot for shot, but not saying a word, waiting for her to unload. Everyone did that, came to Ryan with their problems; expected him to listen, unerringly. He didn't mind it so much anymore, he was used to it. The chrome clock on the kitchen wall ticked loudly. It seemed to be whispering with every tick, _Seth, Seth, Seth, Seth..._

She laughed callously. "Do you know what I _really_ thought when Marissa called me that first time, all cloak-and-dagger, and told me there was this big problem with Summer, and asked me to come back to Newport?"

Ryan shook his head, silently, but leaned forward, compelling her to continue. She noticed for the first time how utterly blue his eyes were. _As true and deep as the sea._

"I thought we were going to an _intervention_. You know, the kind you see on after-school specials. I thought she was just an alcoholic, and I thought with Seth away in Europe, Marissa didn't want to call him, and I thought with his mother and everything, it would just be too hard on _him_, so she called me." She hiccuped politely. "So much for thinking."

"And when I got there, oh my God. Summer had just let herself go. All she did was cry all the time, she wouldn't leave the house, she wouldn't put on make-up or fix her hair. She was such a mess."

Ryan cocked his head slightly, took another shot.

"And stupid Marissa," Anna continued, slurring now. "She just pandered to Summer, did whatever she wanted, all the time. It was no wonder Summer wouldn't get it together with Marissa there to run all her little errands, be her little lapdog," Anna was started to feel tipsy, the liquor warming her from within. Her throat burned amber fire.

She took another shot, already regretting the hangover she was going to have the next morning. "And I helped her get it together. I forced her to move out here with me, I made her learn Braille, I bought her all those books. She's so different, now, even than she was before the accident. She's grown up so much." Anna sighed, heavily. "And now this."

"Seth can be very…persuasive," Ryan commiserated, knowing that she was beating herself up for the scheme to reunite Summer and Seth. "He rarely thinks about the consequences he acts."

"He's a leaper," Anna agreed ruefully. She put her head down on her bent arms. "See, and I'm normally a looker, _normally_, I approach the problem from all sides. But not this time." She lifted her head. "This time I leapt."

Ryan didn't mention that 'leapt' wasn't a word. He cleared his throat. "Why?" His simple question brought tears to his friend's eyes.

"Well, I kept telling myself that I wanted to bring them back together, that I knew Summer still loved him and wanted to be with him." She lowered her voice to a stage-whisper, "...but secretly, Ryan, I've been so selfish. This really hasn't been about her at all. And I kept telling myself it was, that I just wanted what was best for her."

She shook her head. "I'm a bad person."

"No, you're not," Ryan assured her, forcefully. He scratched at the back of his neck. Anna reached her hand out, wrapped it around Ryan's forearm. _Hmmm, toned. He must work out. _

"Kurt, my boyfriend, he asked me to marry him."

"Congratulations."

"Thank you. But now I feel like I can't marry him and leave Summer without anyone to help her. I mean, I guess she could _hire_ someone, but I love her so much, I don't want to do that to her. And Marissa doesn't live that far away, I had thought at one time that she could move in with Summer; but you know how Marissa is: _drama, drama, drama,_ all the time. Summer would get sick of it." Anna took her fourth shot, sucked viciously on a wedge of lime. "So even though it's the last thing she would want for me, I'm stuck. Because of her."

Ryan and Anna sat quietly for several minutes, each lost in their own thoughts.

Finally, she quietly asked, "how did Seth take the break-up?"

Ryan was taken aback by the question, a little. He sucked on his own lime, peeling the globules of juice away from the hard rind. They burst across his tongue with a tart sting. "Hard. He uh, he cried a lot. He kept talking about it, saying he knew Summer would leave him sooner or later. He thought she was too good for him. The usual theatrics, as only Seth can provide."

"He didn't try to call her?"

"He was still in Italy when the accident happened. He got a letter a few weeks later from Summer saying she was in love with someone else, and not to bother coming home."

Anna closed her eyes, pained on Seth's behalf.

"When he flew back to the States, he went over there, but the house was dark."

"I had already brought her here," Anna filled in needlessly.

"Yeah, pretty much."

"Well, that just sucks."

"Yeah, pretty much."

They fell into an easy silence once more. Ryan stood after a few minutes, and fished a ten out of the pocket of his jeans.

"Thanks for bartending," he held it out.

Anna waved it away.

"I insist," he folded up the bill, and placed it on the table, overturning the empty shot glass on top of it, soaking the fine paper with tequila. Anna watched him saunter over to the front door, before turning to meet her eyes one last time.

"Take it easy," he instructed. She nodded resolutely, and shooed him out the door. It locked behind him automatically. The clock struck ten.

* * *

Summer woke with a crick in her neck. She was laying on the floor, curled in the fetal position, her back against the door. Her scalp ached from where her hair was still fastened on her head. Her joints and muscles screamed with pain. Her party dress was rucked up around her thighs, her tights were snagged where she had tried to rip then off in panicked desperation. Her feet protested when she tried to move her legs. She sat up, wincing, and unstrapped the black Mary Janes from her feet before attempting to stand. She stretched her neck, intending to do nothing more than take a hot shower, eat, and fall into her bed. 

A flood of memories from the night before nearly bowled her over; she grabbed onto her bureau for support and she hobbled towards her bathroom. Her watch beeped, letting her know it was half past ten. She couldn't believe that she'd slept all night on the floor, she hadn't done that since her wild party-girl days of early high school.

She stumbled into the bathroom, the blood rushing to her brain and making her head pound furiously. The tiled wall felt cool against her fingertips. She pressed her hand against the window, cool air was seeping in from the crack where she'd left it open. The heat wave had finally broken.

She turned on the faucet, locked the bathroom door, and waited for steam to fill the small room. She removed her hair ribbon, massaging her scalp, cringing as her hair came down in stringy clumps. Her dress was thrown in a heap on the floor; the tights discarded in the trash. She carefully removed her makeup, not caring that her eyes stung with the soapy residue. They were probably already puffy and bloodshot from her night of hysterics, a little more couldn't possibly hurt. She was heartily ashamed of herself, it had been such a long time since she had humiliated herself by behaving like a child. As she had matured into an adult, she'd learned how to manage her anger, but it was episodes like this one that reminded her that her rage blackouts of old were only one Seth-Cohen-away. She would never be completely free of it.

When she had undressed, she stepped into the shower, glad that she'd gotten the water just a little too hot. It scalded her skin, punished her.

How dare Anna? How dare any of them? How dare Seth assume that she would want to see him, after all this time? How dare Ryan presume he would be welcome in the mix? He and Summer were never very close, not even when Seth and Summer had been dating in high school and college, much less now. How dare either of them barge into her life again, when she had so carefully cut them both out?

But the conflict with Anna was what bothered her the most. How could Anna do something like that to her? How could Anna deceive her so willingly? She trusted Anna, with her life. She depended on Anna every day—not only to help her around the house, and make sure she didn't hurt herself—but also _to be with her_, to be her dearest friend. How could that trust ever be rebuilt, now?

She knew Anna regretted what she'd done, Summer had felt her remorse the moment Seth had spoken. Anna emoted the way other people breathed: fully, sometimes even passionately, but always distinctly. Summer felt everything Anna felt because Anna was like that, she was like air. She swirled around Summer like dust dancing on the breeze, like pollen floating.

Summer pounded the tile wall with her fist until it stung; she wanted it to bleed. She hated feeling hopeless, Anna knew she hated feeling hopeless, and yet, that's what Anna had done to her. And what sucked the most was that Summer didn't have any choice. Where was she going to go? Who would care for her, and stay with her, the way Anna had?

She sank to her knees in the corner of the shower, pressed her forehead against the damp tiles. No one. _No one. _

Her father treated her like a beautiful little nuisance. Sure, he would open the house in Newport up for her, but why would she want to go back there? She couldn't go to Marissa, Marissa had her own life, and she didn't know the routines that Anna and Summer were in, she didn't know their systems and habits. Besides all that, living with Marissa would drive Summer nuts in record time.

She didn't have any family, to speak of, other than her father. She was alone. Lost. She sighed, dismally. Everything was taken with resignation now. Resignation to a life of blindness. Resignation to being cared for, like she was slow, crippled, or worse. Resignation to loneliness, for who would ever want to love her now? What other choice did she have but to accept it and try to still be happy?

She turned off the water, wrapped herself in a towel and stepped out of the shower. The back of her neck still burned.

Anna was in her bedroom when she returned. Summer prickled.

"I'm sorry."

"You're sorry you picked the lock, or that you fucked me over?"

"Both."

Summer sat next to Anna on the bed, tried not to fidget.

Anna drew in a deep breath, decided not to reach for Summer's hand. Outside, a car alarm started blaring. "I cleaned up the broken glass, I didn't want you to cut yourself."

"Thank you," Summer tightened the towel around her breasts; the terrycloth was rough against her skin.

"I have something for you," Anna placed the small velvet box in Summer's hand, brushing her thumb gently.

Summer frowned.

"It's your mother's engagement ring, I had it resized for your finger. I had planned to give it to you for your birthday, but you were so excited about the concert, and Kurt was here...and I just didn't think it was the right time."

A hard, sad lump rose in Summer's throat.

"Summer, I'm sorry. The reason... the reason that I brought Seth here was because he saw you in the park that day, and he knew. I mean, he saw you, sitting with me, and he figured it out. He wanted to talk to you then, but I wouldn't let him, because I knew you would be upset. I tried to talk him out of it altogether, but he insisted on it."

"Why didn't you just tell me?" Summer asked, her voice rough with barely-repressed anger.

"I should have," Anna immediately replied. "I should have, and I'm so so sorry that I didn't. I didn't want to upset you, and I thought I could convince him that he shouldn't bother you, so I didn't say anything. I knew if I didn't have him over to see you, he would just come anyway, or corner us out in public somewhere."

Summer removed the ring from the box and slipped it on the fourth finger of her right hand. She ran calloused fingertips over the diamond. She considering stringing Anna along, remaining angry with her, but in the end, Summer decided it was fruitless. She was exhausted.

"Don't ever do that to me again," she said quietly.

Anna let out the breath that she was holding, it came out as a choked sob. "I'm sorry."

Summer turned her face towards Anna's very deliberately. "No more apologies. Let's just forget it."

Anna nodded, breathed again, wiped tears from the corner of her eyes. She stared at Summer for a long moment, her wet hair sticking to her scalp, plastered against her forehead. Anna reached out and traced her finger delicately across Summer's exposed collarbone.

"You're bright red," she commented.

"I was mad," Summer admitted, ducking her chin. Anna's fingers traced her jawline.

"I love you," Anna said.

"I know."

The doorbell rang. Anna sucked in a breath. "That's Kurt," she offered, sounding disappointed.

"I need to get dressed, anyway," Summer rose to her feet, a little unsteady.

"Okay," Anna murmured, standing also. Summer was still facing her, almost expectantly, but there didn't seem to be anything left to say.

Anna hadn't thought that Summer would take it that easily, she imagined that she'd have to grovel for _weeks_, or at the very least, days. Summer turned away. Anna left the room, closing the door behind her with a quiet click. She hadn't thought it would be that easy, not with Summer. But sometimes it just was.

Someone got out to the car, and the alarm fell silent. Outside, the clouds obscured the sun.

* * *

To be continued... 


	11. In the Corner Chair, Soft & Soap Scented

Anna hummed on her way up the small stairway towards the kitchen. The living room ceiling fan was spinning muggy air around the room. The turkey that had been put in the crock pot the night before was making the whole apartment smell warm and delicious. Kurt was in the kitchen already; Springsteen blaring from the little radio that sat on the counter. He was dancing around while preparing the stuffing, singing into the wooden spoon that he had brandished as a microphone. Anna slouched against the doorframe, watching him, amused.

"Bornnnnn in the USAAAAA," he crooned, taking a deep breath to repeat the declaration. He spun around in the meantime, and upon seeing her standing there, watching him, he immediately stood up straight, and adjusted the apron ties around his neck. He cleared his throat. "The singing makes the stuffing tastes better." A precariously placed magnet fell off of the fridge behind him.

Anna grinned. "Really? I've never sang to my stuffing before."

Kurt was blushing bright red; he turned away. Anna decided to have some mercy on him, so she stepped forward and wrapped her arms around him from behind. "Happy Thanksgiving, you big dork," she squeezed.

He spun her around in his arms, catching her off-guard. "How about a little holiday nookie for the chef?" He nuzzled her ear.

She pushed away from him, giggling. "Shh, Summer will be up any minute. We can't."

"Why not?" Kurt grinned wickedly. "She can't see us."

Anna smacked his shoulder. "No, but she has the ears of a hawk." Kurt was not dissuaded, he was pressing kisses to her neck, making silly amorous moans against her skin. Anna wrestled away from him, still laughing. "You. Stop that."

Kurt sighed dramatically. "Fine," he huffed.

Anna rolled her eyes. "Knowing the way you cook, Grandma, we probably won't be eating until four or five, so I'm going to make blueberry muffins," she announced, pulling the box mix from the shelf. "Courtesy of Duncan Hines." She turned the box over in her hands to look at the beautiful muffins that were displayed on the front. "Thank you, Mr. Hines."

She had barely scraped her nail along the edge of the flap to open the box when the kitchen phone jangled loudly, startling her. She held a hand to her breast and took a deep breath. She wondered silently who would be thoughtless enough to call at eight am, and on a holiday, no less. Kurt obviously did not share the sentiment; he simply wiped his hands on the front of the apron, which Anna noticed was Summer's, having _Kitchen Bitch_ emblazoned on it in bright red letters. He picked up the phone, tucking it under his ear.

"The Duncan Hines test kitchen, how may we _service_ you?"

"Kurt, stop!" Anna protested, chuckling. She stopped when she saw his smile fade. He handed over the phone without another word.

She cocked her head, her brow furrowed.

"This is Anna."

"Oh, Anna, darling," her mother was sobbing, almost uncontrollably. Anna exhaled. This couldn't be good.

* * *

Summer stretched as she awoke, inhaling the strong scent of sage and cranberries that was wafting under the door and through the entire apartment. Kurt was notorious for going overboard with the spices, but this was ridiculous. She felt like she could eat the warm, steamy air with a spoon. She had heard the phone ring some time before, she'd rolled over and gone back to sleep. She hoped it had been Kurt's mother calling, giving him instructions. Kurt's mother was the best cook Summer had ever met, and she made the best weinerschnitzel in the entire world, in Summer's humble opinion. And considering that Summer had _been_ all over the world, she felt qualified to make such an assessment. She smiled widely as she stretched her back.

Through the wall, she could hear that the TV in the living room was on, but softly, only occasionally getting loud enough for her to hear it. She ran her hands down her torso, her slim hips, so as to make sure she was decent, and then cracked the door open, stretching again, arms high above her head.

She headed towards the kitchen, carefully making her way up the stairs to the living room. She was assaulted by the cheesy saxophone music of the Weather Channel.

"God, guys, that smells so good," she called out, experimentally.

"Summer," Kurt said solemnly. He was behind her on one of the couches, sitting, but from the pitch of his voice, she could tell he was probably leaning forward.

"What? What's the matter? Are we getting a big blizzard or something?" she asked, moving over to sit next to him, easily avoiding his stretched legs; a habit.

Kurt waited until she was seated. "Anna's mother called, her grandfather passed away during the night."

Summer brought her hand to her throat, shocked. Just last week he'd been doing fine. Getting over a minor stroke, but fine. She started to stand, she had to find Anna, she had to comfort her love.

"No, she's on the phone," Kurt laid a gentle hand on Summer's forearm, pulling her back. "She's been calling relatives; I think she's booking a flight, too." Summer sat back, a bit, but still poised to move, if needed. She and Kurt sat in silence for several long minutes. The clock on the mantle ticked loudly. All the clocks in their home ticked loudly. Almost as if they were daring Summer to notice how, alternately, her life seemed to be moving so fast as to pass her by, and yet simultaneously dragging at a snail's pace.

From the doorway of the kitchen, Anna sniffled. Summer sprang from the sofa, and embraced her friend fiercely. The grief was rolling off Anna in waves, almost stunning Summer with the power of her emotion.

"Sweetie," Summer brought her hand to Anna's hair, a little awkward considering she was so much shorter than Anna, but Anna appreciated the gesture nonetheless. Anna covered her face with her hands, allowing herself to be rocked in Summer's arms for a long time.

Kurt averted his eyes, feeling more than a little intrusive witnessing the intimacy between the two friends. It wasn't the first time he had watched them be this close, to communicate using few words, sometimes just fragments of sentences. And considering Summer's blindness, it wasn't as if they had the benefit of eye contact. It was a strange relationship; he had to admit, he occasionally felt threatened by the depth of the friendship between them, though he would never dare to mention it.

He had only known Anna for two years, and loved her dearly; so he understand how strongly one could feel after so short a time. He would feel ridiculous trying to explain to someone else why he sometimes felt jealous of his girlfriend's best friend, especially since she was a _girl_, but... He did.

But it was as if Summer and Anna had known each other—been close—for all of their lives. They finished one another's sentences; they worked as a well-oiled machine doing housework and in the kitchen. He knew it was ludicrous, impossible even, but he sometimes imagined that they spoke to one another without using words at all. He always brushed it off as silliness, just one of his mother's old folktales haunting him, but he never could quite escape the thought.

The strangest part was, Anna and Summer hadn't even really been friends until they'd moved in together three years before. They'd gone to high school together for a short time, in Newport Beach, even dating and fighting over the same boy. But then, apparently quite suddenly, Anna had moved back to Pittsburgh to stay with her aunt and uncle before even finishing a full school year. She and Summer hadn't even kept in touch, really. They'd gone five years without seeing each other, without speaking. And then, something changed.

Though he'd never gotten all of the particulars, he assumed that it was when Summer had her accident and lost her sight. Anna had gone back to Newport, picked Summer up, and spirited her back to the East Coast as if Anna was her mother and Summer were nothing more than a wayward child. Anna spent three years with Summer, living with her, building a life with her. Their routines were flawless; long-ago perfected through organization to accommodate Summer's needs. Kurt was more than a little awed by Anna's dedication to her companion.

He'd first met Anna through a friend-of-a-friend that she worked with; they hadn't started dating until almost a year after that. And they didn't go out a lot, Anna preferred to stay in, stay close to home. At first Kurt thought it was out of some obligation to her friend, that Anna was afraid to leave Summer alone. But that made little sense, given that Anna went to work every day for eight or more hours and left Summer alone then. He'd eventually concluded that it was want, and not need, that kept Anna close. They were both estranged from their families, to a degree; Summer hadn't gone back to California once since moving to New York. Anna would go to Pittsburgh once or twice a year, usually around the holidays, and would take Summer with her.

Across the room, Anna finally pulled away from Summer, and Kurt sat up, attentive.

"I don't even have a black dress," Anna mused absently, staring off into space.

"I do," Summer offered. "It's a little long on me, so it should be fine for you still. I'll go get it, you can try it on now, if you want."

Anna's expression softened, she pushed a lock of Summer's hair back behind her ear.

"Thank you."

Summer blushed. "I'm going to go take a shower, I'll be right back."

Anna swallowed back a fresh wave of tears. "Okay." It came out choked. Summer squeezed her hand, kissed her cheek. Summer left the room. Anna wrapped her arms around her waist, trying in vain to warm herself up.

"Anna," Kurt beckoned her over to the couch, to where he was still seated. She crossed to him, curled up under his arm.

"God this day has sucked, and it isn't even noon yet," Anna blew her bangs out of her eyes.

Kurt didn't speak for several seconds, worried that bringing up Summer would only rile Anna's ire. The timer in the kitchen dinged, it was time to stuff the turkey. He ignored it. Anna sighed. "I don't mean to upset you any more, honey, but what are you going to do about Summer?"

Anna stiffened. "What do you mean, _do_ about her?"

"Well, while you're gone."

"I'm taking her with me, of course," Anna replied immediately, sitting up.

"Are you so sure that's a good idea?"

"What else would I do?" she snorted, "Leave her here by herself? I have to take her with me. I need her." her voice rose, Kurt cringed. The TV was showing the weather in San Diego.

"I just think that maybe you're upset, and you're being a little hasty about this, honey."

"Why? What do you mean? I've already booked her plane ticket."

"To Wisconsin, right?"

Anna nodded.

"Has Summer ever been out there with you?"

Anna shook her head, now looking a little uncertain.

"Don't you think it's a little unfair taking her out there, somewhere she's never had to get around before? I mean, you're not going to have time to really take care of her."

"Well, she's not a child, Kurt," Anna stood, pushing him away, frustrated.

"I know she's not, but you can't just ignore the fact that she _will_ need help."

"Well, I can't leave her here by herself," Anna spat.

"Call someone to come stay with her," Kurt suggested, his voice soothing. "I'll go with you to Wisconsin, help take care of _you_. Summer will be fine here for a few days."

Anna bit her lip. In some part of her heart, she knew Kurt was right, but that didn't change the fact that she didn't want to leave Summer behind.

Kurt relented. "In the end, it's up to you. I just think that you should really think about what you would be doing," he told her, turning away. He walked over the sliding glass door that led out onto their small patio and escaped into the cool air of the November morning. Anna watched him light a cigarette, he almost never smoked. Only when he was upset.

She was still standing there watching him a few minutes later when Summer emerged, fresh from her bath. She looked lovely in her peach-colored silk bathrobe.

"Hey, so I found the dress," she held it out for Anna to take. Anna fingered the satiny fabric.

"It's beautiful."

"Yeah, it used to be. I mean, I remember that it used to be beautiful. Back when I could see it," Summer finished lamely. She wasn't quite sure what to say. Being glib felt wrong, especially in Anna's time of mourning. It was difficult for Summer not to try to laugh things off, she'd been doing it her entire life.

"So when are we leaving? And how many days should I pack for?"

Anna hesitated, Summer frowned. "See, I've been thinking about that."

"Thinking about...? What? Me coming with you? Why?"

Anna paused, the music on the TV swelled. "Well, I've just been thinking...I'm the executor of my grandfather's will. I won't be around, I mean... I won't be available."

"Yeah?"

"I just don't think it's a good idea, you know. That you come with me."

Summer shook her head, mute. Kurt came in from outside. Anna turned to look at him for a moment, then turned back to Summer.

"What about Marissa?" Kurt blurted out. "Can't she come and stay with you?"

"Marissa is in Egypt with her mother and her sister," Summer replied automatically, a little dazed. For the first time in the history of their friendship, Anna wasn't insisting that Summer come with her.

Kurt scratched his head. "Well, what about your father?"

"He's in Japan," Anna said

"Well, but couldn't you go home?"

Summer shook her head. "No one would be there. He doesn't keep a staff anymore when he's away on business."

"Who else do we know in the City?" Anna thought aloud, tapping her index finger against her rosy lips.

"What about that guy? Your friend?"

Summer's brow furrowed. "What guy...?"

Anna's eyes lit up and realization dawned for Summer.

Kurt continued to talk, gesturing with an unlit cigarette. "What's his name? Sam? Sean?"

"Seth." Summer answered flatly. "And the answer is no."

"Summer..." Anna trailed off. Her eyebrow rose, her voice lowered. "Who better than Seth?"

"Um, anyone?" Summer zinged back.

"Well, maybe you don't have a choice."

Both girls turned to face Kurt so fast that neck bones popped loudly.

"Excuse me?" Summer placed a hand on her hip.

Anna was flabbergasted, speechless.

"We don't have time to stand around and debate the merits of who comes to stay with you. You know, as long as someone is _here_, that's what's important, right?"

"Yeah, fuck _my_ feelings on the matter," Summer retorted angrily.

"I don't get what the big deal is. This guy is your friend, right?" Kurt turned to Anna, his confusion clear. Anna shook her head silently.

Summer realized in an instant how little Anna had told him about what had happened. She scowled at Kurt. "I see," she said bitterly. "So you just want to patronize poor little _blind_ Summer, and ship off, leaving me here with _Seth_, who couldn't possibly…"

"Summer, shut up!" Kurt commanded, startling her. "Stop feeling sorry for yourself. Anna told me this Seth kid is a good guy, and I'm sure he would never hurt you. He would just be coming over to help you out for a _few days_, so quit being an ungrateful bitch!"

Summer was stunned speechless, and her face hardened when his words soaked through. "Fine! You want to leave me with Seth. Fine." She wrestled away from Anna, who had moved to take Summer into her arms. She stomped down the stairs back to her room and slammed her bedroom door.

Anna turned to Kurt, furious. "Why did you do that?"

"Because!" he exploded. "Because she takes advantage of you. Here your grandfather just passed away, and she wants us all to feel sorry for_ her_. If you had stood there another two minutes she would have had you wrapped around her little finger."

"So?" Anna narrowed her eyes. "Maybe _we like it that way_. Maybe it works for us."

"Can't you see that would have been a nightmare in the long run? She would have whined, and kept you away from your family, and you would have had to babysit her the _entire_ time."

"You don't understand, you'll never understand!" Anna broke down into angry tears, pushing him away when he tried to comfort her. "Go away. Go home."

"Anna."

"I'm serious, Kurt. I'm pissed. Go."

Kurt shook his head. It wouldn't be twenty minutes after he was out the door that Summer would have Anna at her beck and call again. "Fine." He slammed the door on the way out, too.

* * *

Summer heard a soft knock at her bedroom door. She buried her face further into her pillow. "Go away."

Anna opened the door. "Summer, I'm sorry. I'm sorry that Kurt yelled at you."

"Is he gone?"

"Yeah," Anna sighed, sitting heavily at the end of Summer's bed. "He's gone." They'd replaced Summer's bedroom mirror after her tantrum, it had a silver frame, and didn't match any of the other furniture in the room. Summer liked the way the cool metal felt under her fingertips.

"Summer," Anna said softly, pulling her pouting friend into her arms. Summer pressed her face into Anna's lap; Anna felt the sticky wet sensation of fresh tears against the bare skin of her thigh.

"Why can't I go with you?"

"I'm going to be trying to keep all my greedy cousins from tearing each other's hair out. It would be monumentally unfair to bring you into a new environment like that and then not be around to help you."

Summer got quiet for a long minute. "We could hire someone."

"We are hiring someone. We're hiring Seth. I just got off the phone with him, he told me he'd be more than happy to help out. I made sure that he understood that this is an emergency, and a temporary arrangement."

"I mean hire someone _other than_ Seth," Summer retorted angrily.

"Who could we trust more than Seth?" Anna asked, all innocence. "What if we hired some person off the street? What if he or she robbed us? Or took advantage of you? I would never forgive myself," Anna said gently, stroking the silky strands of Summer's hair softly, lovingly. "Plus, whoever we hired probably wouldn't be willing to stay here overnight."

"Please don't do this to me!" Summer begged, fresh tears emerging. "I don't deserve it! This is my house! I'll stay by myself!"

"You know that I have never tried to take away your autonomy. But you're blind, my darling, and we live in an enormous city. I can't leave you here alone."

"I'm not a child."

"No, of course not…but what if you needed something? What if you fell down, or hurt yourself? I'm afraid to go out alone at night and I'm _not_ blind."

Summer sighed, put upon. "Why him?" She whined. "Anyone but him."

"I've been thinking about this for the last hour. There _is_ no one else."

Summer pushed away, finally, and rose, a little unsteadily to her feet. "You can leave me with Seth, but you can't force what's not there anymore, so just stop trying to."

She walked into the bathroom to wash her face, and shut the door firmly behind her.

* * *

"Ry," Seth dropped the phone on the worn leather sofa next to where he was sitting. His voice was a little choked, and so Ryan looked up from the textbook he had been engrossed in. Seth's hair was sticking up in twelve different directions, his bathrobe gaped open to reveal a soft navy blue shirt with a green outline of Wisconsin on the front. _Wisconsin. Smell the Dairy Air._ Ryan rolled his eyes. His boxers even matched. "_Ry_." 

"What?"

"You'll never believe what Anna just called to ask me..."

* * *

To be continued... 


	12. To Hide the Smile and Watery Tears, I

It was four-fifteen on Friday afternoon when Summer heard the key in the door. She bit her glossy, cherry-flavored bottom lip. She didn't even know why she bothered to put on make-up, it's not like she cared what _Seth Cohen_ thought. It's not like she would ever see him again after this ridiculous stint in which she was being captive in her own home. It would be as if she had never met him before in her life, a stranger she had passed on the street, passed without a second glance. Nope, she didn't care at all.

_Oh, who was she kidding?_

Anna had left early that morning, with Kurt in tow, on her way to Wisconsin. Anna had apparently made up with the cruel bastard, though Summer couldn't imagine why, even if she really could. The truth was, Summer liked Kurt, and she knew he wasn't really cruel, he was just fed up. And in her spoiled little heart, she knew why. She had been—was being—a bitch. It was unfair to ask Anna to drop everything to take Summer with her. It was unfair to keep her from the life she would be living if she didn't have Summer hanging around her neck like an albatross she would never be rid of... It didn't mean Summer had to forgive Kurt, though. He should at least have to grovel a little.

Anna had kissed Summer on her way out the door, and waited until the last minute to mention she would be gone for almost two whole weeks. It didn't matter. Summer was determined to be as calm and unaffected with Seth as she would be with a stranger; he would think her made of stone.

She had tormented herself all afternoon with where she would sit when he first saw her after what she referred to privately as The Dinner-Party Debacle, for a debacle it was. She agonized over what she should wear, and how she should act. Should she be chilly, but polite? Or just downright standoffish? Should she wear her hair up, or down? He _had_ to believe that she didn't care. After changing clothes three or four times, she finally settled on a pair of jeans and a plain white starched blouse. She settled herself on the end of the sofa with one of her Braille books and waited, not able to think of anything but Seth.

She wondered if he still looked the same, dark dancing eyes and windswept curls. Did his smile still quirk at the corners of his mouth, did he still kiss with a single-minded passion? Was he still as witty and sarcastic as she remembered him? Was he older, wiser?

She heard the door creak open, a light tap on the threshold. She sat up straighter.

* * *

"Hi, Summer," Seth said shyly as he came in the door, a lump rising painfully in his throat when he caught sight of her. She looked so lovely, he wanted to cry.

"Good evening," she replied stiffly. She didn't remove her hand from her book.

"Were you okay, here by yourself all day?"

"Anna works. I'm alone every day, today was no different," she informed him icily.

"O-Oh, I didn't realize. I'm sorry," he bumbled.

She didn't answer. She looked right through him, but he almost swore he could see the pain behind her eyes. He had known this wouldn't be easy, but such a chilly reception just reinforced his doubt. What had he been thinking, agreeing to this? Moreover, how had Anna gotten _Summer_ to agree to this? He sighed. Summer had long ago shuttered up her heart, and playing house with Seth for a week or even two wasn't going to change that at all.

He steadied himself, his hands were trembling. "I was thinking about ordering up Chinese for dinner, if that's okay?" He offered tentatively, as he removed his trademark track jacket and hung it on the coat rack by the door. He nestled his portfolio next to the entry table, dropping his keys down onto it's polished surface.

"That's fine."

"Do you still like General Tso's chicken?" he asked, still hesitant.

"Yes."

"Okay, I'll get some dumplings, too."

Summer forced a hard smile. "Sounds fine."

"Don't get too excited," Seth mumbled under his breath as he moved towards the kitchen, rolling up the sleeves of his dress-shirt.

After a few minutes of rummaging around in the cabinets and pantry, he returned to the living room. "Do you want sweet and sour?...you don't have any in the fridge…"

"Hey, Seth?" His heart clenched painfully. He couldn't remember the last time she'd called him by his given name. Well, when she wasn't screaming it, anyway.

He swallowed the lump that was still painfully crowding the back of his throat. "Yeah?"

"I know you're just here because you feel sorry for me. So you don't have to be nice to me," Summer raised her chin in subtle defiance.

"I think it's safe to say you don't really know me anymore, Summer," Seth replied coldly, furious at her implication that he was only there out of pity. "Now do you want sweet and sour or not?"

"No."

"I'll call in the order," Seth escaped back to the kitchen, and let out a long breath, his body sagging against the nearest solid surface. He pressed his back against the wall, forcing himself to take long, deep breaths. He'd never been so nervous around a girl in his entire life; not even his most embarrassing fumbling around Summer in the days of his youth could compare to the way he felt now.

He could hear a delicate cough from the living room, and the panic nearly overwhelmed him again. What on Earth would they talk about for the next _six hours_? He forced himself to concentrate. _Just ignore her._ Yeah, right.

He called in the order, and then went back to the front door, pulling in his suitcase and backpack full of necessities. He could tell she was curious as to what he was doing, but she certainly wouldn't deign to ask him, and so he didn't bother to tell her, either. Sort of a sick retaliation, but nothing she didn't deserve.

He opened the door to the guest room—second door on the left—Anna had told him earlier that morning on the phone. It reminded him startlingly of his room back home. The walls were a cool ocean blue, offset by white crown molding and billowy white curtains. The doors had been speckle-painted a sky blue, and the windows themselves had watery blue treatments. He unfolded his suitcase, putting his underpants—_Seth, don't say underpants_—and socks in the top drawer, and his tee shirts in the middle drawer. He left the bottom drawer empty. He hung his dress slacks and shirts in the closet, kicked off his Sketchers in the floor.

He emptied his backpack, stacking books on the night table and his laptop on the desk. He had gotten permission to work several days from home—he had naively thought that Summer might need his help. _Ha._ Now he was sure he would go into work just to be away from her. He lined up his CDs on the edge of the antique desk, noticing the wood had been recently polished. Had Anna done this, in anticipation of his arrival? Or could it be the two princesses actually kept their own house? Seth snorted. They probably had a maid in every day. She probably did their nails while she was at it.

He flopped down onto the bed, bounced on the mattress a few times just to make sure it was a Sealy. He grabbed Wonder Boys and began to read, getting lost in the prose, not even hearing the knock at the front door.

"Um," Summer was standing at the door to the guest room, looking very lost. Seth jumped to his feet, ever ready to come to her aid, then cursed himself silently because of it. "The food is here. I would just pay, but I can't find my purse."

Seth approached the door, and then cleared his throat. She stepped out of his way very purposefully and he sprinted up the stairs and to the front door, pulling out his wallet as he did so. He paid for the food and brought it to the kitchen table, where he began unwrapping everything and removing the lids. Summer stood at the door frame, listening to him move around. He ignored her.

He got forks and napkins from the kitchen and set them on the table on the placemats, along with plates and glasses, which he filled with water from the Brita pitcher in the refrigerator. She was still standing in the same spot when he sat down and began filling his plate.

"It's not getting any warmer," he said, his voice devoid of emotion, though technically he supposed he could have just been teasing. She didn't answer him, but she did approach the table and gracefully sink into the seat adjacent to his, exactly where he had placed her plate. A little shiver went up his spine. _How had she known...?_ She silently filled her own plate, and began to eat. He watched in amazement as she effortlessly moved the fork from her plate to her mouth, never once faltering, never once hesitating.

After a few bites, she put down her fork. "Please stop staring at me."

He grunted, ducked his head, and continued eating, not looking up at her for the rest of the meal. When she was finished, she pushed her plate away, and Seth picked it up wordlessly and took it to the sink, washing all of the dishes without turning to even see if she had left the kitchen or not.

* * *

Summer was taken aback. Seth hadn't even attempted conversation with her. After nearly breaking her door down, _crying_, the night of the DPD, screaming about how he just wanted to talk to her—he hadn't said a word. She didn't know whether to be relieved or angry. _How dare he_? Order her around? Talk to her with such condescension?—_it's not getting any warmer_—his mocking tone echoed in her head. How dare he stare at her? She wanted to scream in frustration.

She let him do the dishes.

She settled back onto the couch, picking up her book and pretending to read, listening to him put away the leftovers and wipe the kitchen table off with a sponge. He was probably spreading germs everywhere, the big oaf. Hadn't he ever heard of Clorox wipes? The fan above her swirled lazily, ruffled her carefully styled hair.

Friday nights were usually pizza nights. Pizza, and then an old movie. They would paint their nails and Anna would tell her what was happening on the screen. She frowned. _Just two weeks, Summer. You can make it two weeks. _ He'd be gone, out of her life forever.

Seth flipped the switch in the kitchen, turning the light off with finality. She could feel his uncertainty filling the room, and she smiled behind her hand. She could imagine him standing there, fidgeting, not knowing whether to go back to the guest room, or sit there with her. She let him suffer.

Finally, he went to the door, got something, and came back. She heard him flipping through papers, and mumbling quietly every few minutes. She began to read again, and read the first page four times before she understood what she had been going over for the last fifteen minutes. The second page she only had to read twice, and then it flowed much more easily. She was surprised when he cleared his throat.

"Do you want to watch TV or something?" he asked, ever so polite, gentle. Oh, how she missed his gentleness, his gentle nature, his gentle touch. He used to treat her body like it was china. Sure, she could manhandle him all she wanted, but he never returned the favor. He had never hurt her, not with his hands, not even on accident. Her heart ached. The clock on the mantle struck seven.

"What...what do you want to watch?" she asked, her confidence rising slightly.

"Reruns of The Valley come on TNT. Or, we could watch Law and Order...something else? A movie?"

"The TV Guide is on the table in front of you. What comes on TCM tonight?"

He flipped through the pages, ran his finger down the listings.

"Love Affair, 1939. Charles Boyer, Irene Dunne. Playboy Michael Manet and American Terry McKay fall in love aboard ship, then agree to meet six months later once Manet has had a chance to make his fortune."

"And?"

"And that's all it says."

"Hmmm."

"Indeed."

"Well, you'll have to tell me what's happening."

Seth didn't say anything for a moment. Then, quietly, "I can do that."

"Fine."

Seth flipped the television on, and surfed the channels until he found it. The movie was just starting, and he dutifully told her everything that happened that wasn't explained by the dialog.

When Irene Dunne was hurt in the film, Summer stifled a sob into her hand. How more inappropriate a choice of film could the two of them have made? She rose, quickly. "I'm sorry, I'm very tired. I think I'm going to go to bed."

Seth also stood, though he didn't know why. "Oh, okay," he nodded. "Goodnight."

Summer escaped the room as fast as she could, collapsing against her bedroom door, and taking in a huge gulp of air. _Don't hyperventilate, don't hyperventilate. Take a bath, go to bed. Don't you dare cry, Summer Roberts. Not with him in the house. Don't you dare. _

How did Cohen do that? How did he make her feel like a complete idiot when she had said probably less than thirty words to him the entire evening? She was frustrated, stymied, and she felt completely out of control. She hadn't allowed herself to feel this way in a very long time. She almost didn't know how anymore.

She ran herself a bubble bath, and sank down in the tub, the warm water slowly relaxing her trembling, tense muscles. She hadn't done anything physical to make her feel so tired, it was emotional exhaustion that plagued her now. She imagined she would fall asleep as soon as her head hit the pillow.

Only she didn't. She laid awake, unable to sleep, listening to him move around, listening to _him_. He watched TV for about an hour, and then turned the lights off in the living room and tiptoed down the hall to the guest room. He showered quickly—she listened to the water rushing through the pipes—he had always been an expedient bather. She heard the bedsprings squeak across the hall as he climbed into bed, she imagined his every move as if she were in the same room, watching him.

She wasn't sure at what point she fell asleep, but she did.

* * *

To be continued... 


	13. We'll Hold the Hands of Sinners

_"You are so beautiful, you know that?" Seth was on his side, lying in their bed and staring at his girlfriend. She was prancing around the bedroom, practically naked, under the guise of getting dressed for a 'girl's night out' with Lauren and Marissa. _

_"I know you think so," Summer answered, smiling lustily, evasive. She hummed, her voice sleep-roughened and husky. _

_Afternoon naps were her pleasure, her indulgence. _

_Seth rubbed his erection discreetly; Summer grinned. She came over to him, knelt on the bed across from him, and his eyes swept over her body hungrily. _

_She was wearing his favorite pair of her lingerie, a satin jade-green demi-bra and panty set that made him salivate every time she brought it out of the bureau drawer. Most of time when she wore the green, they weren't even able to leave the room without Seth ravishing her completely. She trotted it out regularly, knowing what it did to him. _

_"Are you trying to torture me?" he asked, looking up at her too-innocent face. _

_"You're the one staring at me like I'm the answer to all that ails the world...hunger, famine, drought..." _

_"There are a lot of problems that could be solved by the green underwear." _

_She threw her head back and laughed, dislodging the pins that were holding up her raven hair in the process. Dark locks tumbled around tanned shoulders, framing her face. _

You're vicious like the blue sky...

_Oh, yeah, she knew **exactly** what she was doing to him._

_He watched her as she prepared to go out, dancing through spritzes of expensive perfume, the perfect application of makeup. She shimmied into a silky emerald confection, a dress, without even giving him a backwards glance in the mirror. She was driving him insane with lust, and she knew it. She reveled in it. _

_She glanced at the delicate silver watch around her wrist. _

_Seth approached her from behind, wrapped his arms around her waist, pressed loving open-mouthed kisses against the honeyed skin of her shoulders. _

_"I love you," he mouthed sensuously, his fingers curling upwards into her hair. She turned in his arms, kissed him madly. _

_They didn't even bother to take off her dress._

_

* * *

_  
"Hi Summer," Seth said bashfully as he came through the front door of the apartment. He'd left that morning before dawn, taking a run through the park to clear his head and compose his thoughts. He hadn't done that since college. And thinking of his sore calves, he remembered why.

He'd gone back to his own apartment to take a shower and get dressed for the day. Ryan's eyebrows rose to his hairline seeing Seth come through the door, but per usual, he didn't comment.

Seth put on jeans and his _Stop Potato Violence!_ shirt, and nodded to Ryan before leaving. He was in the diner on the corner two blocks over ordering burgers and fries five minutes later. The waitress smirked at him.

"You don't seem very committed to your mission," she pointed her pencil eraser at his shirt. Seth blushed. She smiled again and stuck the pencil through her ponytail before hollering his order over her shoulder at the fry cook.

"Is that..." Summer's button nose wrinkled, "hamburgers?"

"And fries!" Seth chimed in cheerfully.

"Cohen, it's eight a.m.," she retorted disdainfully.

"Never used to bother you before," he pointed out. A beatific look crossed her face ever-so-briefly as she remembered breakfasts of burgers and fries down on the pier, and later, at Berkeley. After long nights spent cramming, they would go down to the greasy spoon down the street from their apartment and pig out before class. They had called it brain food, and laughed.

Summer scoffed. "Well, I've grown up," she said, imperiously.

"Could've fooled me," Seth muttered.

"What?"

"I said, 'Glue is a great adhesive.'" He cleared his throat. "Just an observation."

Summer frowned. "Cohen, you are just so..."

"Witty? Charming?"

"Disturbed?"

"Au contraire, women fall at my feet, they swoon at my glance. There have been many women over the years to find me witty and charming," Seth bantered.

"Oh yeah, name one."

"You." As soon as it was out of his mouth, Seth was kicking himself.

Silence descended throughout the loft, making the air thick between them. Rain began to slap at the windows in lazy splashes.

The single word hung on the air heavily, as if to be indelibly imprinted on both of their minds. Seth cleared his throat, moved past her to the doorway of the kitchen.

"You've had breakfast already," he said needlessly, seeing the skillet soaking in the sink.

"Yes, eggs," Summer replied stiffly, feeling her way over to the couch, where she sat daintily and picked up her novel. She had once loved to curl up in bed with a good book when it began to rain, a rare occurrence in Newport Beach. Perhaps that was why she cherished it so much. She had stopped indulging in rainy days long ago.

"Well, I'm determined then to be very hungry," Seth said, almost too quietly.

"What?"

"I said that I wasn't aware that you knew how to cook," he said, loudly.

"I'm blind, not deaf, _Seth_, and if you wouldn't mumble, I wouldn't have to ask you what you just said, and then you wouldn't have to yell at me something completely different that what you had just _mumbled_."

"Sorry, your highness," he answered, before taking a big, loud bite of his cheeseburger. The crunchy bacon helped. After a few silent, pregnant minutes, he stopped eating so emphatically and she actually began to read instead of just sitting there, moving her fingers across the same page repeatedly. His heart clenched painfully. She was so beautiful, still. She had an uncanny knack of knowing when he was staring at her, so he tore his eyes away and concentrated on his breakfast.

After eating, he busied himself cleaning up the kitchen, though there wasn't much to do. Summer and Anna had a very neat, organized life. He supposed they would have to, considering everything had to be in the exact same place all of the time so that Summer could find it.

He couldn't explain it, but at some point, he had stopped wanting to cry every time he thought of her condition. Pity didn't do either of them any good, and if Summer sensed his, she would resent him even more than she already did. He wiped off the counter and breakfast table with the bright pink sponge that was balanced on the kitchen sink. The clock that ticked from the wall above him was unbearably loud.

Seth washed his hands, poured himself a cup of coffee and wandered back into the living room, searching for the morning paper that he'd brought in with him.

He coughed. "So what's on the agenda for today?" He grabbed the paper from the top of the entertainment center.

Summer raised her head in surprise. "What do you mean?"

"What do we have to do?" Seth clarified, coming to sit on the couch, a respectable distance away, of course. The folded paper remained in his lap. The room grew darker as the black storm clouds obscured the last remaining bit of sunlight the day had to offer.

"To _do_? Nothing, that I know of."

Seth steepled his fingers together, contemplating. He decided to go at the issue from a different angle. "What do you normally do on Saturdays?"

Summer sighed, closed her book over her arm so as not to lose her place. "Well, ordinarily Anna and I grocery shop on Saturday mornings, but she did that before she left and we're fully stocked. In the afternoons, we might run errands, to the cleaners or the hardware store, stuff like that. Sometimes we go to the library or to the park in the afternoons. I do my yoga at three, then I take a long soak in the tub, and then we usually order up and watch a movie. We live a dull live, I guess, but we like it. Any other questions, Pinkerton?"

"No," Seth shook his head. After a moment, he continued, "...well, the park is out because of the rain." He chose his next words carefully, "...but if you wanted to go to the library, I'd be happy to come with you."

Summer snorted. "No thank you. I went last week." She opened her book again, pretended to read. A bolt of lightening zinged across the ever-darkening sky, the lights flickered. Summer didn't flinch.

Three seconds later, a crash of thunder boomed through the apartment, making the picture on the wall rattle dangerously. Summer shivered.

"Still afraid of storms?" Seth asked, idly, more to himself than to her.

Summer nodded, but didn't speak. It amazed Seth that though she could no longer see, he could still read every emotion, every nuance, through her expressive dark eyes. In this moment, she was fearful, but trying very hard to be brave. He had the sudden desire to kiss her, to hold her close and make her forget the rain, the way that he used to.

"Well, I guess if the rain lets up, we'll go out to dinner," Seth finally said, standing.

Summer closed her book again with a thud. "_What?_"

Seth turned back towards her, grinning. "Now that time I _know_ I didn't mumble."

"Seth, _no_. Dinner? Out? In public?"

"So? You do other things out in public…walk, shop…go to the park."

"Yes, but eating?"

"You didn't have any trouble last night," Seth argued reasonably. His heart tugged at him, nagging. Why was Summer fighting this? Why was she fighting him?

"I haven't eaten…out, I mean _out _out, since…the accident," she confessed. Realizing how vulnerable she sounded, she stiffened her resolve. "I'm not ready."

"You are ready, stubborn. I've seen you. You're perfect," he ducked his head in embarrassment at such an obvious display of his affection; flushing.

Summer's eyes narrowed. "No means no, Seth."

"And if we were in bed together, that would be applicable. This is dinner."

"I don't want to!" she shouted at him. He could see her trembling.

He forged forward, dauntless. "So you're just a coward, then?"

Summer's face burned hot with anger. "Don't you _dare_ say that to me! You don't get to make snap judgments about me anymore! You have no idea what I've been through!"

"But I'm sure that you'd be more than willing to tell me all about it!" Seth yelled back.

She jumped to her feet. "What's _that_ supposed to mean?"

Seth finally lost his temper. "It means that Anna may coddle you, but I won't. I'm not here to listen to your sob story, or to be your slave for the next two weeks. I'm here to be in the house at night, to keep you safe, and I'm here to make sure you don't accidentally stick a fork in a light socket, _that's it_."

"Then listen to yourself, assface. You're not my keeper, you don't feed me, or dress me. I'm not an invalid. And quit trying to make me do something I don't want to do!"

"See above, re: coddling," Seth retorted. He steeled himself, prepared for the worst of all rage blackouts. "If you want to waste away in this apartment for the rest of your life, BE MY GUEST. But while I'm here, you're going to eat with me, where and when I want to, or you're not going to eat at all!" He stomped off down the hall to his room, leaving Summer speechless, her jaw hanging open. He slammed the door extra-hard, for her benefit.

A second later, her bedroom door slammed in retaliation.

He sank against the wall, exhausted, grateful for its support. He knew it was an empty threat, but he was so angry he just couldn't see straight. What had happened to proud, independent Summer? What happened to brave, sassy Summer? Why had God done this to her? To him, to them? He knew Summer's motives hadn't always been pure, and she'd done her fair share of cruel, childish pranks. But she wasn't a bad person; she'd grown out of that phase, as most children did. What had she ever done to deserve _this_?

* * *

Across the hall, Summer's thoughts mirrored Seth's exactly. Her back was against the door, desperate for the support. How dare Seth give her an ultimatum like that? He must have truly lost his mind if he thought for one second that a.) he could ever enforce his dictatorship, and b.) that Summer would put up with it. 

She conveniently left out that she'd lied to him. But damnit, he didn't get to know everything about her, not anymore.

She sank down to the floor, the carpet rasping painfully against the sensitive skin of her knees. She lied to him. She'd lied to him. Again. She had lied to him enough in the past that this small infraction shouldn't bother her in the slightest. _But it did. _

It bothered her more than even she could explain. Seth always seemed to find out the truth, no matter how she tried to hide. Case-in-point, the very reason they were both sharing the same apartment, once more, and now on opposite sides of the hall; the ubiquitous elephant for any room, now available in five colors at a retailer near you!

Sure, she'd been out to eat since the accident. But showing up at Mr. Wong's fifteen minutes before closing and eating in an empty restaurant with Anna and Kurt, was very very different than allowing Seth, her Seth, to take her someplace fancy with a roomful of other people, and knowing that she couldn't touch him, couldn't smile at him. She'd never be on a date with Seth, not ever again. The thought made her breathless, it made her want to scream, to throw something. She wanted to break something, to hurt something, someone, to cut herself open to the pain.

She wiped hot tears away. There was more than one way to hide from Seth, and she knew from experience that the best way was to put herself out there; to make him believe she _wasn't_ avoiding him. _Deceive, Inveigle, Obfuscate. _If she went to dinner with Seth, he would think he had won. He would retreat, he wouldn't press her again, not for a while. Agreeing to accompany him to dinner didn't mean that they had to converse, or even look at one another. She was tired of being the emotional woman, the nervous wreck. She wasn't some fluttering girl. She wasn't upset. Hard heart. Stiff upper lip.

Across the hall, Seth cranked up the stereo. Journey. Open Arms. Summer rolled her eyes. _Two could play at this game..._

_

* * *

_  
Summer threw open the door to Seth's room several hours later, her hair upturned in a twist, as lustrous and sleek as mahogany silk. The short satin robe she wore did little to hide the curves of her succulent body. _Jesus and Moses, she was so beautiful..._ Seth crossed his legs.

"Yes?" he squeaked. He cringed, and then tried again, "yes?"

"Where are we going?"

"Going? You mean tonight?"

Summer sighed, didn't answer.

"Why?"

"Why _what_? I have to know what to wear," she explained condescendingly.

"What does where we're going have anything to do with what you wear?"

Summer sighed, "you know perfectly well that I like to color-coordinate. If we do Italian, I wear red; Chinese, black; Indian, brown..."

"French," he answered, his voice thick.

"Blue it is, then," she answered, moving to leave.

"What about green?"

"What about it?" she asked over her shoulder, not turning to face him.

"Where would I have to take you to get you to wear green?"

Summer paused. "I don't wear green anymore."

"Oh," Seth got very quiet.

"I'm just going to go...uh..."

"Take a bath?" Seth suggested helpfully.

"Yes, a bath," Summer left, almost ramming herself into the door frame in the process. She escaped to her room, hurrying to the bathtub and spilling several tablespoons of the rose-scented bubble bath under the running water. Her cheeks burned with embarrassment.

Jesus and Moses, how she wished this could be easy. She untied her robe, letting the luxurious fabric slip to the bathmat that was caressing her uncalloused little feet. She just had to be strong, brave.

Stepping over into the tub, she realized immediately as the scalding water enveloped her ankles that she'd gotten the water _too_ hot. She yelped and jumped backwards, reaching her hands to catch herself on the lip of the garden tub. In that instant, she lost her footing, slipped, and her pretty head snapped against the fiberglass cruelly. She had no other thoughts as her world tumbled into an inky darkness that was as unforgiving as the black heart of the sea.

* * *

To be Continued... 


	14. I Hold Sunlight, and Swallow Fireflies

"Summer?" Seth knocked delicately on the door, not wanting to intrude; not wanting to break the temporary tenuous peace that they seemed to have established. No answer. He knocked again, louder. "Summer, I thought I heard you yell. Are you okay?" 

Silence pounded through the empty bedroom, between his ears, in his heart. Panic started to rise in his throat like bile, like pale yellow frenzy. "Summer, if you don't answer me, I'm going to come in. Please talk to me." This time, he didn't wait for the sound of her voice, he reached for the doorknob, turned it easily. _Since when did prickly Summer Roberts stop locking her doors?_

He bounced in, just in time to see the top of her head—the lovely hair he'd just been admiring—submerge in the steaming water. He hesitated only a moment. If she was okay, she would just have to be angry with him for barging in. He crossed over to the tub and knew instantly something was wrong. She wasn't moving, wasn't awake.

He plunged his hands underneath the hot water, pulled her up into his arms, soaking his worn cotton polo. He turned her head to the side slightly, her body involuntarily coughed up the water that was in her throat.

"Summer, Summer, please wake up," he begged, falling backwards on to his bottom on the plush purple bathmat, hard. He held her in his lap like a child, checking to make sure that she was breathing every couple of seconds. He clamped his fingers around her chin, shook her ruthlessly. "Summer, wake up for me, you stubborn bitch." _No. No. No. This couldn't be happening, not like this. I'm not going to lose her again. _

He laid her out as carefully as he could against the cool tile, he turned off the faucet; the tub was almost dangerously full. He stumbled out of the bathroom, searching around her room desperately for her phone.

"911, what's your emergency?"

"My girlf-my friend, she fell, she hit her head. I need an ambulance." His voice cracked painfully.

"Please calm down, sir. How long ago did she hit her head?"

"I don't know, maybe a minute. She was in the bathtub. She's unconscious," Seth was already back in the bathroom, kneeling before his goddess, his love. "She hit her head."

"We have a unit on the way, sir. Is she breathing?"

"Yes, I pulled her out of the water, yes, she's breathing."

"Okay. ETA is four minutes, stay calm..."

Seth hung up the phone without waiting for the nasal operator to finish. He pulled Summer's robe out from underneath her supine body and draped it over her, he had to preserve her last shred of dignity.

"Hang on for me, sugar. The ambulance is on the way," he whispered, pushing back the wet hair that was plastered to her forehead. The soft scent of roses drifted from the warm water in the tub, rose from her flushed body like steam. _Roses. Pink like summer sunsets; rosy like soft lips, blushing cheeks. The smell of her body after they'd made love. Wild yellow roses, summer. _

_His mother's voice, angelic. Just because you're crazy about someone doesn't mean they are right for you, Seth. Or that you are right for them._

He pressed kisses against her forehead, against her cheeks. "Summer, Summer, Summer," he didn't dare touch her anywhere else, he didn't dare move her.

Seven minutes later a pounding at the front door interrupted the murmured litany, he bolted from his position next to her to the front door, his heart beating wildly. The next fifteen minutes was a blur of activity as the technicians loaded her onto a stretcher and carried her out to the elevator. Seth grabbed his coat and his bag, barely holding on, remembering at the last second to fish the keys out of his pants pocket and lock the front door. He reached the elevator just before the doors shut and he shouldered his way inside. The EMT shot him a dirty look, but Seth was so focused on Summer that he didn't notice.

They lifted the stretcher into the ambulance as if it weighed no more than a few pounds, he leaped into the back of the bus, onto the bench, hovering over her as the techs called the hospital to relay their position.

He held her hand, even as the tech inserted the IV and took her vital signs. Seth's voice was caught in his throat; though he tried to speak out, he couldn't. The EMT didn't notice. The sirens began to blare as the ambulance merged into traffic.

Seth rocked in his seat manically until the tech shot him a sideways glance a la Ryan and said, "Settle down, kid, or I'll strap you down, too." Seth nodded, but didn't stop. He needed to think. What? What did he need to think? He was so confused, so muddled. When did things get so complicated? The only thing he could hear was the pounding of his own heart, beating in sync with hers, the only agreement they ever reached. Their hearts beat together, even when their minds and their lives did not. _Hmm, Poetic. Maybe I should write that down..._ Seth shook himself, inhaled deeply.

The ride to the hospital was completed in silence, only the short bursts of static and distant, tinny voices from the radio interrupted their thoughts. Seth watched helplessly as the EMTs wheeled her stretcher into the emergency room, steel doors swinging shut to bar his entry. He started to follow.

"Sir!" He turned to find the triage nurse staring at him expectantly. He hurried over to her, switching his corduroy coat from his right arm to his left, pulled nervously at the wool scarf around his neck.

"Patient's name?"

"Summer. Roberts. Summer, Middle name A-a-b-i-s-h, then space and then M-a-h-r-u-k-h. Roberts is her last name."

"Date of Birth?"

"August 23rd. 1987. She's twenty seven."

"Yes, I can count. Social?"

Seth fumbled for a moment, then pulled out his wallet. "Okay, seven-three-four, six-nine, eight-three-six-six."

"Any allergies?"

"None that I know of."

"Next of kin?"

"Me. Uh, I'm her...I'm her..." Seth was stuttering, trembling. "We're engaged."

The nurse looked up sharply. "She has no other family?"

Seth shook his head mutely.

The nurse took her pen up again in renewed efficiency, "your name?"

"Seth, Ezekiel, Cohen."

"Okay, Mr. Cohen, I have some forms for you to fill out. You can go back now, if you like. Here," she shoved a clipboard in his general direction and he barely caught it before it clattered to the floor.

He followed a portly young doctor in blue scrubs past the triage desk and into the melee of the emergency room on a Saturday night. Of all the ridiculous times to faint and hit her head, Summer would pick the busiest, craziest...

"Here she is," the resident threw back a worn vinyl curtain that was the approximate shade of avocado green that induced vomiting in those who weren't colorblind. Summer had been moved from the stretcher to the bed, a plain white sheet pulled up to her throat. Seth didn't even know if they had put a gown on her or not.

"Can I get a blanket for her?"

The resident reached into the cupboard and grabbed a thin cotton blanket and shoved it at Seth, who took it grudgingly. He suspected he wouldn't get anything better for her until he actually talked to someone with a medical degree.

"Where is the doctor? Where are the nurses?"

The resident snorted. "She's breathing. Someone will be by in a while."

"Great," Seth muttered under his breath as the resident exited breezily. He sank into the hard, barely-upholstered chair next to Summer's bed and took her hand in his once more. He kissed the top, being careful not to jar the needle that lay just under the surface of her almost-translucent skin. _How had she gotten so pale? When had it happened? Where was her warmth, her life? _

"You're going to be just fine, sugar," he whispered, scooting to the edge of his chair, resting his head on the bed next to her hip. He nestled his cheek into her ribs, needing to be close to her. "You're going to be fine."

Now if he could only make himself believe it.

* * *

The first thing that Summer became aware of was a steady, monotonous bleating; the sound of slow, tedious death. She felt like her eyelids had little silver weights on top of them, to hold them shut, like coins on a corpse. She brushed at them in vain with her left fist. Her right arm was being held securely beneath the warmth of another body. 

She moaned, disoriented.

"Mama?"

Seth awoke with a start at the sound of Summer's voice. He let out an enormous breath, he wondered if he'd been holding it the entire time. Across the hall, a siren started to wail, someone was flat-lining.

"Oh, Summer," he whispered. "Thank _God_."

"Cohen?" she asked wearily, finally opening her eyes.

"I'm here, sug--. Just keep still," Seth took her hand in his own, and then pressed it against his cheek, as if to convince himself that she really was okay.

Summer attempted to sit up, but grabbed for the back of her head when a shooting pain erupted behind her eyes. "Cohen, what happened?"

"You were in the bathtub, you fell and hit your head. But you're okay," Seth gave a chuckle as heady relief swept through him. "I brought you to the hospital."

She scratched idly at her hand, where the IV had been inserted. "That much I figured out. How long was I out?"

"Five hours," Seth sighed. "The longest five hours of my life," he mumbled to himself a half-second later. Summer ignored that. He sighed again, stretching the tense muscles in his neck.

"You know, if you didn't want to go to dinner, you could have just said so," he ribbed, still giddy.

Summer rolled her eyes, "...of course, I almost forgot how well you take _no_ for an answer," she remarked dryly.

"Continue to mock me and I won't let you play with my shiny new halo," he teased, brushing him thumb across the back of her hand, an intimate gesture. Too intimate, but he couldn't stop himself.

Summer's heart rose, just a little. How she had missed this. The affection, the banter. The feeling that no matter what Seth said, or how biting his tone, he never really meant it, not really.

"Miss Roberts, you're awake," a rather large nurse waddled in, pushing a cart full of supplies. Her voice was husky, like Lauren Bacall, but she smelled like cheap perfume, it made Summer nauseated. She bit back a comment about Wal-Mart and the quality of it's product line; no one but Seth deserved her snark.

"Yes, just," Seth answered, sitting up straight in his chair. He dropped Summer's hand, but didn't stop hovering. Nurse Walcott was quite lovely, with long brown hair, sparkling eyes, pink apple cheeks.

"Can we unhook this?" Summer gestured to her hand, where a heart monitor had been clamped around her index finger. "The beeping is driving me crazy," she murmured sheepishly.

"That'll be for the doctor to decide, love. I'm just here to draw your blood."

Summer offered her arm wordlessly and turned her head to bore holes through Seth with her empty stare. The nurse tied a long rubber tube around Summer's bicep, and then began to slap her fingers against the skin of Summer's inner arm, looking for a vein.

Summer reached over very suddenly and pressed her free hand against Nurse Walcott's protruding belly. "When is your baby due?"

Nurse Walcott and Seth both gaped at Summer. Behind the curtain, a stretcher whizzed by, an intern loudly yelling at others to get out of this way. The pretty nurse recovered first; she cleared her throat.

"Babies. Twins. They're due in March... but...how did you know?"

Summer shrugged and smiled shyly. "I don't know. I could just feel it. I feel their energy."

The nurse flushed a healthy shade of rose, pleased and proud. She finished up and left the room, still shaking her head in wonderment. Seth watched Summer silently.

"You're staring at me again," she warned, less snappish than the last time she'd railed him for it.

"I know," Seth replied, unapologetic. "I'm just so glad you're okay."

Summer blushed, and Seth ducked his head, embarrassed.

Outside, Summer heard the same intern yell, "_I can't stop this thing on a dime, you know!_"

Seth stood, his voice wavered. "I'm going to go get some coffee."

"Okay," Summer breathed, smiling at him genuinely for the first time, albeit only slightly.

"I'll be right back," he promised, nearly tripping over his own two feet as he retreated. He stole one last glance at her before letting the curtain softly swish shut behind him.

* * *

Four hours later, Summer was finally released from the hospital with a prescription for Vicodin and with cheerful instructions to Seth not to allow her to take any more baths alone. Darling Nurse Walcott even winked as she said it, which made it even worse, considering that Summer couldn't see her teasing smile. Regardless, she smiled back indulgently while Seth's face burned hot with embarrassment. 

"She was sweet," Summer whispered as they walked away.

When they arrived back at the apartment, they could hear the phone ringing even from outside the door. Seth hurriedly worked the lock and ushered Summer inside.

Summer dove for and reached the phone just before the last ring. "Hello?" she said, breathlessly.

"Summer! For God's sake, _where have you been?_ It's 2 _am_, I've been worried out of my mind. I tried your cell, I tried Seth's cell...I tried the house phone like, twenty times..." Normally unruffled Anna was frantic, near tears.

"I'm sorry, we're sorry. I fell, and hit my head. Seth had to take me to the hospital. But don't worry, I'm fine."

"Oh, God, do I need to come home? Are you hurt? What happened? I should just come home..."

"No, no," Summer protested, allowing Seth to help her out of his coat. "It's just a little bump." She felt it gingerly and cringed.

"Where were you? What were you doing?" Anna demanded, nonplussed. Seth in the meantime, brushed Summer's neck inadvertently as he took the scarf from her neck as well. Both of them ignored the delightful shiver that his touch created.

"Humiliatingly enough, I was in the bath tub," Summer wandered into the living room.

"Jesus, you could have drowned! You could have really been hurt!"

Summer laughed nervously. "Well, that's why Seth is here, right?"

"Oh, God, I'm so glad he was!"

"Okay, okay. I'm fine. It's 2 am. Go to bed," Summer insisted. She could hear Anna take a deep, relieved breath, exhaling loudly.

"Darling," Anna whispered, her voice lowering intimately.

"I know," Summer murmured back. She knew that it was killing Anna for them to be separated, the few times that it had been necessary in the past three years of their friendship it had nearly driven both of them crazy. Maybe Dr. Phil or some other asshat would call that co-dependent, but Summer felt stubbornly that it worked for her and Anna just fine.

"Seriously, go to bed, or you'll be dead on your feet tomorrow," Summer urged again.

"Goodnight," Anna said softly.

"G'night," Summer swallowed the lump in her throat. "I love you."

"Love you, too. I'll see you soon."

"Night." Summer ended the call. Seth was standing in the doorway of the living room, watching her. "I'm tired," Summer said. "And I never did get my bath. So if you'll excuse me..."

"Um, Summer... why don't I, um, sit in your room or something, maybe you can leave the door open? I promise, I promise not to peek or anything."

"What?" she frowned.

"You know, just in case..."

"Seth, I'm not five. I can do this on my own."

"Well, yes, but I don't think I can take more than one heart attack in one night," he explained, self-deprecating, as always.

Her expression softened just enough. "If you must."

"I'd like to," he assured her. "And you can just make lots of splashy noises so I know you're okay. And maybe you could even hum."

Summer smiled, bewitchingly. "I can hum."

* * *

To be continued... 


	15. Firing, Flaming, Colors Surround Me

Seth stumbled into the living room, rubbing his bleary eyes with his right fist. A quick glance at the ornate clock on the mantle told him it was just after noon, and though he had slept well enough, he felt like he'd been rode hard and put away wet. Beaten up in an alley and left to die. Kicked hard when he was already d...

"I didn't know what you want for breakfast," Summer said, from the doorway of the kitchen. She was a vision in her peach silk robe; she tugged self-consciously at the fabric where it fell open, revealing the creamy swell of her breast. "But I left the oven on for you."

"Thanks," Seth said, when he finally caught his breath. Summer descended into the living room with her plate, which had a single piece of toast and an peeled orange. "So, what are we watching?" he asked, gesturing at the television, in a vain attempt to keep from ogling her.

"_Dirty Dancing_," Summer grinned, flopping down in the corner of the couch, pulling her legs up against her chest, balancing her plate on her knee caps.

"Oh, God, I remember torturous afternoons watching this with you," Seth groaned, settling on the other end of the sofa. "How many times have you seen this movie, anyway?" Realizing how insensitive that sounded, he cringed. "What I mean is, how many times have you listened... I mean, played the movie since..."

"Cohen," Summer interrupted his nervous fumbling. "It's okay. I've seen it 116 times."

Seth crossed his eyes comically.

"And that's only been since the accident!" she added cheerfully.

Seth groaned again, more piteously. "How many times total?"

Summer ducked her head, suddenly embarrassed.

"Summer..." he prodded. "How many times?"

"412," she said quietly.

"What?" Seth yelped. "How do you do anything else? How do you find time to sleep, or eat?"

Summer rolled her eyes, still smiling. Together, they sat through the dance lesson scenes, and the performance at the Sheldrake. If Seth remembered accurately, the love scene was fast approaching, and he decided to make himself scarce to avoid shaming Summer further.

He yawned, stretched. "I think I'm going to go take a shower."

She turned her face up towards him, and smiled shyly. "Okay."

Impulsively, he said, "...listen, since we didn't get to do our thing last night, what do you say we go out tonight?"

Summer bristled. She cleared her throat. "Where?" she asked, her voice cracking.

"Well," Seth leaned forward. "My band is playing tonight, down at a club about four blocks from here. I told them I couldn't play with them tonight, but that I would try to come. Moral support, I guess."

Summer got an odd, perplexed look on her face. "You ...you have a band?"

Seth resisted the urge to tuck a stray lock of her hair behind her ear. His hand twitched. "Yeah. I play bass."

She cocked her head. "When did you learn to do that?"

"Well, I was in the school band until the eighth grade... I played the guitar, and the drums. The bass isn't that much different from a regular guitar."

Summer's expression was a mixture of sadness and awe. "I guess we could go. What time should I be ready?"

Seth perked up. "The first set starts at nine, so we'd have to leave here about eight thirty."

"What should I wear?" she played nervously with the same hair that he'd so recently wanted to touch, to run his fingers through.

"Jeans is fine," he said. "Uh, but wear a light top, because it gets really hot at these things. All the people... crowds," he trailed off, a little helplessly.

Summer tried to smile, but it came off much too wooden. "Sounds fine."

"Great," Seth nodded with his entire body, rocking forward with excitement. He stared at her for a minute longer, before clearing his throat. "I'm gonna...go...shower."

"Scream if you fall, so I can come rescue you," Summer ribbed, turning back towards the television.

"Cute," Seth retorted on his way towards the stairs.

Summer just smiled faintly.

* * *

"Here, come this way," Seth's voice was muffled, seemingly far above her head as they elbowed their way through the crowd. His hand played lightly at the small of her back, occasionally touching, sometimes just brushing the thin fabric of her halter top. It was starting to drive her crazy; not in the annoyed-and-slightly-put-off way, but in the frustrating turned-on-and-can't-do-a-damn-thing-about-it way. He would also lean in every once in awhile and murmur something into her ear, ostensibly because the room was so loud, but his breath was warm against the sensitive skin of her neck, and just once his lips accidentally brushed the soft shell of her ear. She shivered. 

_Baseball, sweaty umpires. Grouting the bathtub. Micheal Jackson. Crickets. Farts. Torture. Thumbscrews._

She pressed her thighs together longingly.

"Here we are," Seth announced, leading her backstage. "Best seat in the house."

Summer tried to smile.

"Cohen!" A voice boomed from behind her, startling her. A sweaty body shouldered past her. "What the fuck, man? I called your house, like, fi'ty times. Ryan kept telling me to try your cell, but it's been off. Where have you been, dude?"

"Relax, Danno. This is Summer, my gir—my exgirl...she's my friend. Summer," Seth bumbled, wincing at the way his voice sounded girlishly high. The lead singer Carlson called that pitch 'The Nut-grabber.'

"Summer," Danno extended a beefy hand towards Summer, leering at first, and then frowning when she didn't reciprocate.

Seth jumped in. "Summer, this is Brad Danno, he's our drums."

Summer stuck her hand out, but misjudged by several inches. Seth gave Danno a pointed look, and the boy returned it, bemused. He shook her hand harder than necessary.

As soon as he let go, Summer wiped her palm against the thigh of her jeans, disgusted by the slick clamminess. Danno didn't seem to notice.

"Get your ass out there on stage, man. The crowd wants you," Danno lurched off without waiting for an answer, raising his hands high above his head as he entered stage left. The crowd gave a mild cheer, clearly unimpressed.

Seth's hand was at the small of her back again. Summer sighed. She knew that he probably wasn't even aware that he was touching her, but she couldn't find the courage to call him out on it in front of all these people that she didn't know—his friends. She shied away from his hand, wrapping her arms around her body protectively.

"You know, you can play with them, if you want. You don't have to babysit me," Summer offered, her voice a little too loud in the small space behind the stage. Her words echoed off the plywood walls. The bare light bulb above them flickered ominously.

"Are you sure?" Seth asked dubiously; his uncertainty almost overpowering her.

"Of course, go. Play with your friends. I'll stand here and listen," she smiled, forced.

"I'll...I'll um, find you a chair," Seth bounded off. "Stay right there," he called back, over his shoulder. Summer rolled her eyes, more out of habit than actual irritation. She really had to twist his arm there. He returned a moment later, with a padded chair, and he resisted the urge to take her hand as she sat down, knowing instinctively that she wouldn't appreciate it. Especially not for what it would have been—just another excuse to touch her, to feel her velvet skin.

"It'll be about forty minutes," he explained, taking off the t-shirt that he had layered with, revealing his worn gray undershirt. "Hold this for me?"

Summer nodded, balling up the shirt in her lap. "Go. I'll be fine," she shooed him off with her hands, and he gave her one last look before leaving her. The crowd went nuts as soon as he stepped on stage, and Summer furrowed her brow, wondering what the big deal was. _It's not like he cured cancer, or ended world hunger or anything._ _It's just Seth. Cohen. Seth. Damnit._

"Hey Summer," Ryan's voice was behind her, then above her, as he approached from the bowels of the seedy bar.

"Where did you come from?" she asked sharply.

"I come in the back," Ryan explained, finding a seat near her feet, crossing his legs underneath him.

"You always sit backstage?" she asked imperiously, knowing she sounded snobby but being almost unable to stop herself.

"They love him," Ryan offered in explanation. "I feel like I'm in the way out there. Plus, I don't want to make him nervous."

Summer was touched, and a little stunned. Ryan had uttered more than five words in her presence. He hadn't done that since... what? High school? His devotion to Seth was as obvious as it ever had been, jealously gnawed uncomfortably at the back of her mind. She shifted in her seat.

"Seth made me come," she blurted.

Ryan's eyebrow rose. The drummer started clicking his sticks together and the cymbals crashed as the first song started.

Summer wondered silently if they mostly played covers, or if they wrote original stuff. She wondered if any of the songs had been written about her. She thought idly about Gwen Stefani... she rocketed No Doubt to stardom writing songs about some guy, lost love... The band had a sound that was a little more punky and fast-paced than what she was used to, but it was Seth, so she found herself getting lost in the music.

It was just over a half an hour later when a silence fell across the stage. Seth cleared his throat over the microphone, feedback erupted for just a second, drowning him out. "She smells like springtime, Summer's breeze. This song is for her."

The opening chords of an old Jimmy Eat World song began to fall over the hushed crowd. Summer's nipples hardened almost painfully, making her body hyper-sensitive to every breath, every movement. It was funny, the way her entire life seemed to teeter on the edge between pleasure and pain. Losing her popularity to be with Seth Cohen. Losing her father to gain her freedom. Losing her sight to be reunited with Anna, her dearest friend. And now back to Seth, again...

"Oh, God," Summer's throat constricted, her words barely audible. Ryan slid a glance over to her, gaging her expression carefully. It was caught somewhere between melancholy and hope, but misguided hope, hope that wasn't really sure where it belonged. After a moment, she managed to say, "I didn't know that Cohe...that Seth could sing."

Ryan's lips quirked. "The song about Jesus and Moses and the beards didn't wow you?"

"Hardly," Summer quipped, turning her face back towards the stage. Seth's voice reached her ears softly, warmly.

"_You'll change your mind ...come Monday. And turn your back on me. You'll take your steps away with hesitance ...you'll take your steps away from me._"

The air around her pounded with potential, with lust and raw emotion, like the steady beating of a drum, like the rhythm of her heart. Laced with a little sorrow, a little joy, the space around her sang with a sort of electricity, a melody. His song snaked around her body, pushing, pulsing, playing against her sweat-slicked skin. Her heart was caught in her throat, making it dry, cracked. Like the desert, in August.

"_I'm making my peace, I'm making it with distance. Maybe that's a big mistake, you know I'm thinking of you._"

"He loves this song," Ryan muttered, playing with the laces of his worn Sketchers. They were Seth's shoes, or had been at some point. The black had become muted, and then it had become gray. They were comfortable, stretched, perfect for his foot.

"I remember," Summer's voice was husky, struck dumb with surprise and memory. They sat in silence through the guitar solo, and the last verse.

"Seth...he still cares about you," Ryan said, stilted. Summer barely heard him over the roar of the crowd as the band finished the song.

Summer's answering smile was sad, her eyes watered. "Maybe so, but that's all over now." The entire audience was standing, applauding and Summer clapped furiously with them, to avoid further conversation.

Ryan began clapping too, after a moment.

Seth came backstage, sweat coated his forehead and face. He lifted the hem of his undershirt to wipe his brow. "Ry." Ryan handed him a cold bottle of water wordlessly, and their eyes met for a long moment, exchanging words that neither of them said aloud.

_Don't do this. She's trouble. It's been so long. _

_I can't, man. I love her. I still love her. _

_Maybe so. But that's all over now. _

"So that's it?" Summer asked, a little disappointed. A solitary drop of sweat rolled down her spine, making her shiver with the sensation, and something else... something a little like anticipation.

"That's it," Seth answered, still a little breathless. He wiped his face again, took a long drink of water.

"You guys are really ...good," she said. _She wondered if that was insulting. Good. Should I have said something more musical? You guys sounded really ...well timed? No, that sounded ridiculous. Cohen ...Seth knew that she didn't know anything about music. She would have felt stupid trying to prove herself, trying to be someone different. _

"Thanks," Seth smiled, genuinely thrilled that she liked the band. He turned towards Ryan and handed the bottle back. "We're going to go. I'm going to get her out of here before the entire band tries to take her home for a gang bang."

Summer threw her head back and laughed. Seth and Ryan both turned towards her, surprised. She caught her breath, "_Gang bang_?"

"Hey, I'm trying to save you, here. They hit on everyone. I'm just circumventing an ugly scene in which I suddenly become forced to defend your honor."

Summer shook her head silently, still grinning hugely, and handed him his shirt. She stood and Ryan picked up her chair, disappearing behind the old black curtain that obscured the wings of the stage from the crowd. Seth escorted Summer down the back stairs out into the alley, and she found that when his hand fell to the small of her back, she didn't mind it so much anymore.

* * *

Seth was uncharacteristically quiet on the taxi ride home from the show, which was actually perfect because it gave Summer a much needed opportunity to think. 

_Chino was such a jackass, telling her that Seth still **cared** about her. How patronizing, how pretentious. As if she'd even asked for **his** opinion. What possible purpose could be served trying to stick his big nose in her business anyway? Caring was what people did for elderly aunts, and small neighbor children. Maybe he'd been trying to tell her that Seth was never the love of her life to begin with, and she was just fooling herself to believe that he was. Sure, Seth would always care about her, but that meant nothing, in the long run. _

_And even if Seth still **cared** for her, the novelty of her presence would soon wear off, and her blindness would become a burden, just as it had with her father, and with Marissa, and with Anna... Although, maybe it was unfair to lump Anna in that category so soon. After all, it wasn't as if Anna had **told** her (yet) about Kurt's proposal, but eventually she would, because it was inevitable. Even the fact that Anna **hadn't** told Summer was evidence enough that it was because Anna had to figure out who she could dump Summer on so that she could accept. And then she and Kurt would move into a big house in the country, and have like, ten thousand babies, and dogs and goats, and..._

"Turn here, please," Seth instructed, his voice a little gruff.

The cabbie obeyed and Summer went back to ignoring them.

_Anna would leave her eventually, just like everyone did. And why shouldn't she? Wasn't Anna allowed to have a life, too? Wasn't Anna allowed to be happy? She shouldn't have to bear the responsibility of Summer, not forever. _

_Regardless, letting Seth back in, letting him think she was open to the possibility of being close to him again was inviting trouble. She wasn't going to put herself in a position to be dumped on, to be left behind. It wasn't like he even **tried** the first time, anyway. He just let her go without a fight. She wasn't even worth fighting for, worth trying for. Maybe that's what Chino had been trying to say. That Seth would always care about her, some part of him; just like Summer would always care about Seth. It didn't mean that they were ever destined to be more than casual friends, little more than acquaintances. It didn't mean that she had to reach out to him, or even humor him. She wasn't going to be on the short end of **that **stick, not again. _

The cab screeched to a halt in front of her building, and Seth took her hand to help her out of the car, she snatched it back almost immediately. They rode to the third floor in silence, the tension between them mounting with every breath.

As soon as they entered the apartment, Summer hung her coat on the rack and headed back towards her bedroom. Seth followed, a little unsure, and Summer turned on her heel at the threshold of her door. "I don't want to do anything like that again."

Seth frowned, "...but...but I thought you had fun."

Summer's expression hardened into a glare. "I said I didn't want to go. Stop pushing it." She shut the door in his face, a little harder than necessary.

Seth let out a long, beleaguered sigh. "One step forward, two steps back," he muttered, to himself.

* * *

To be continued... 


	16. I Can't Be Seen With You, You See

Summer woke to a gloriously sunny morning. At least she assumed it was sunny. Bundled up in her quilts like a big, fluffy burrito, with only her face peeking out, warmth bathed her exposed skin. Anna liked to leave Summer's curtains open—she always said it gave the room energy and vitality and a bunch of other new age crap—and it's not like Summer would mind, anyway. Despite the chill of the winter day, the sun coming through the window made her feel like a napping feline, stretched out and perfectly relaxed.

Until, that is, a flood of memories from the previous night crashed upon her, and tension filled her body, down to the smallest muscle in her neck. It twitched, uncomfortably. Damn Seth Cohen and his obsessive need to push people to their limits. He talked constantly, annoying practically everyone, and the incessant stream of noise wasn't enough—oh, no—most of the time his inane chatter was about _himself_. He bumbled, he babbled, he muttered. He drove her crazy with almost every other sentence that came out of his mouth. And he seemed bound and determined to use the two weeks he was sent to lord over her as an excuse to find new and obnoxious ways to torture her daily.

Hadn't God punished her enough? She'd finally gotten to a point her life where she had accepted what had happened to her. She accepted her blindness, accepted it as a new way of life, and adapted accordingly. There was no magic button, no surgery, no treatment, no cure. She would be blind for the rest of her life, and there was no sense in wallowing in self-pity or hatred for the world around her. As Anna had to remind her almost hourly in the weeks following the accident, she had so much to live for. She had her health, and her mind, and her courage. Anna reminded her that she could do anything.

_Now, Seth Cohen comes barging back into my life, unbidden, unwarranted—unwanted. And he just flaunts it in my face that he has all of the power, and I have none. Just because he can see and I can't. That doesn't make him the boss of me. That doesn't make him anything to me. _

The apartment, Summer noticed, was very, very quiet. She pressed the button on her watch, and the responding beeps told her that it was a little after ten a.m. She thought she probably should at least_ try _and get out of bed, but she was so warm and cozy, and it wasn't as if she had anywhere to _be_, really. She wondered idly, where Seth was. He was probably still asleep, the lazy bum. She wouldn't blame him if he holed up in his room all day, considering how rude she'd been to him the night before.

It wasn't as if she'd really intended to be that cold, that cruel. It just sort of ...came out. It was like all of her emotions had been bottled up, held back the entire night, and his silence just sort of pushed her over the edge. The one time she would have appreciated his mumbling, he was as quiet as the grave. Which was just typical, really. It was almost as if he could sense her hesitation, her need for brevity. Seth had never been good at picking up her subtle clues, so why would he start now?

Summer stretched, yawned hugely, and proceeded to roll off of her mattress, untangling herself from sheets and blankets in the process. She found her robe, and put it on over her flannel jammies, and found her fuzzy bunny slippers at the end of the bed, tucked under the bedskirt. She figured she would try to make amends with Seth—a peace offering—since she would have to share the apartment with him for at least another week and a half. She decided she would make pancakes, a recently learned treat, but one that she was exceptionally good at.

Slipping out of her bedroom door, she felt around experimentally to see if his bedroom door was closed, and she discovered that it was. Deciding to let him sleep for a while longer, she padded down the hall towards the kitchen.

She worked quickly, the Today Show keeping her company on the tiny television Anna kept in the kitchen. Summer always warned her friend that Anna would lose a finger paying more attention to the tube than to whatever she was chopping; but today Summer was grateful for the distraction. She fixed two plates, and then tiptoed back down the hall towards Seth's room. She knocked, lightly.

"Cohen...it's me...uh, Summer. I made breakfast."

Her answer was complete silence. She knocked again, with a little more force. Maybe he was in the shower, or still asleep... She cracked the door open, and called out his name again. Still no answer. She crossed over to the bed, feeling tentatively across the end of the mattress.

Her hands felt only the cool texture of the blankets, pulled perfectly tight across the surface of the bed. She moved her hands to his bedside table, feeling around for books or papers. She knew he'd brought a ton of books with him when he came to stay, where were they now? The only resistance she met was the cylindrical touch-lamp that sat upon the surface of the table.

Summer stepped over to the writing desk, gingerly sweeping her hand across the top. Where was his suitcase, his backpack, _his things_? She knew he'd brought his stereo, his CDs, his laptop. There was nothing there; the top of the desk was as slick and as smoothly polished as it was before he'd come to stay. There was nothing of his on the bureau, or on the counter in the bathroom. She knew in an instant what her heart had been denying since the moment she stepped into the room. He wasn't there; he wasn't in the shower._ He was gone. _She suddenly, and very inexplicably felt completely lost. A broken sob rose in her throat. Had she finally been so much of a bitch that he had just left? Would he have at least called Anna to tell her he couldn't stand it anymore, and that Summer was in the apartment alone, by herself? He had some nerve, after Anna had paid him to stay with her!

Summer willed herself not to panic. How could he just leave? What would she do if he had? She couldn't call Anna back now, she _wouldn't_. Kurt was right, in his own overly-protective, blustering way. Summer _was_ selfish, and she was a jerk, and it was right for Anna to want to be away from her, to want a break from her. She wasn't going to give Kurt the satisfaction of being right.

She took a deep breath, gathering her strength. She would just have to weather it out. If Anna called, Summer would pretend like everything was fine. She wouldn't tell Anna that Seth was gone; that he had left one morning and hadn't come back.

_And him._ Even if she'd been the most virulent shrew in the entire world, he still should have told her he was going, and if he would ever come back. If she ever met up with him again, so help her, God... It wouldn't be pretty. She closed the door to his room behind her, tried to quell the butterflies careening wildly in her stomach. The entire apartment smelled slightly singed, the odor of burned flour hung on the air like mist, like the smell of burned rubber. It was making her nauseated.

She thrust her untouched breakfast down the garbage disposal, and cleaned the kitchen, throwing open the sliding glass door and the casement window in the kitchen to get a breath of fresh air flowing through the stuffy room. She ignored the shivers that crawled down her spine as the icy wind whipped across her cheeks when she moved too close to the open door.

She left it open long after the smell of her long-forgotten breakfast had dissipated. She was determined to punish herself. It seemed only fitting. She would freeze herself to death because Seth Cohen found her too bitchy to bear? She really was getting melodramatic in her old age. Ha.

Though she tried to convince herself that she wasn't concerned, she still found herself pacing the living room like a caged tiger a half an hour later. She debated calling Marissa. Sure, she knew Marissa would fly home from Africa for her, or at least, she hoped Marissa would be that loyal. Hell, Marissa would probably thank Summer for pulling her away from her overbearing mother.

But why was she even letting herself go there? She had been the one to fight Anna to stay there alone, after all. She protested vigorously about the idea of Seth Cohen, a man she'd left far behind in her past, was plunged back into her life once again. _I should be glad, I got what I wanted._

But no matter how hard she tried, she couldn't make herself feel happy about the way things were turning out. She was so lost in her thoughts she almost missed the phone, ringing loudly from the table in the foyer. She dashed for it, stubbing her toe on the entry table in the process.

"Hello?" she croaked, wincing.

"Summer!" Seth exclaimed, panicked. "Are you okay? What's wrong? What happened?"

"Seth? Where the hell are you?"

"I'm at work. What's wrong with you?

"I just stubbed my toe, it's nothing," she brushed him off brusquely. Catching herself just in time, she softened her tone considerably. She heard his relieved sigh on the other end of the line.

"I woke up this morning and you weren't here, I got a little worried," she said quietly, her voice wavering just slightly at the end. She swallowed hard, resisted her own vulnerability.

"Well, I tried to tell you last night," Seth replied, peevish. "But you were determined to be a jackass, so I couldn't. My boss paged me after the show. I had to come back to work today, no matter what. He said I could take some time off later this week, but he needs me here through Wednesday at least."

Summer gritted her teeth, ignored his insult and his tone. "I'm sorry."

"Golly, that almost sounded like you meant it," Seth zinged back, merciless.

Summer clenched her right hand into a fist, pounded the table as hard as she dared, counted to ten. "I _am_ sorry. I just...wasn't feeling well, and I said something I shouldn't have."

"Listen, I hate to cut you off, but my boss is headed my way. I'll see you later tonight."

"Yeah," Summer replied listlessly, punching the button on the cordless phone harder than she needed to. At least she knew now he wasn't gone for good. She couldn't decide if she was consoled, saddened, or angered by her own foolish suppositions.

_Maybe it's just time to let them go,_ a voice whispered.

_No. That would mean giving up, giving in._ That would mean Seth would be hanging around all the time, trying to be buddy-buddy with her, and with Anna, so that they wouldn't think he was avoiding them purposefully. _But maybe that wouldn't be so bad..._

Summer sighed, heavily, feeling suddenly quite exhausted. She curled up on the sofa, imagining a quick nap would revitalize her for an afternoon of reading, or maybe even some light cleaning. Just a little nap...

* * *

Summer woke, hours later, hearing a key turning in the door. She sat up quickly, smoothed her hair down and cringed when she realized she was still wearing her pajamas. The ones with dancing bananas on them. It was too late to make a run for it, Seth would know she'd been the laziest bum on the planet; sleeping the day away on the couch, for God's sake. She straightened her shoulders, stifled a yawn.

Seth took one look at Summer as he came through the front door and wanted to burst out laughing. Her face was contorted oddly, like she was trying very hard not to laugh herself. There were smudges of flour across her cheeks, and some even in her hair, the remnants of some baking experiment gone awry, no doubt. Her pajamas had large gyrating fruit on them, and he wondered if she even knew it...who knows if Anna had told her how silly she would look when she...

"Hi, Co...Seth. Hi, Seth," Summer repeated, trying very hard to seem self-assured. At least she had excellent posture.

Seth took a deep breath, edging forward into the dim light of the living room. It was only five o'clock, but the winter day was already growing dark. Snow flurries were pelting against the windows hard, and fast, now. The light from the table-side lamp glimmered off the glass invitingly. Why Summer even bothered to turn the lights on was a mystery, but one that he was grateful for.

In that instant, he shivered violently, and out of the corner of his eye, he saw the gossamer living room curtains billowing against the breeze. His gaze shifted to the open patio door. He crossed to it wordlessly, and closed it with a snap. Summer didn't even flinch. Seth gazed at her for a long moment, uncertain why it saddened him so much that she would do such a thing. It was almost as if it were penance, for something. His beautiful summer queen was never one for the cold, she was a genuine California girl... _And yet. _

"Here, I um, brought you something," Seth said quietly, as he stepped back into the circle of lamplight.

"What is it?" Summer asked, dubiously.

"Um, just some flowers I picked up. Seems really silly now...since you can't...see them," he mumbled. "I'm sorry I was rude to you on the phone earlier." His eyes darted nervously around the room—to the coat rack, the mail sorter, her glass on the sofa side table, a small puddle of orange juice still welled in the bottom of it—anywhere but her. When he did finally look up, her crestfallen expression left him a little breathless.

Summer held her hands out, like a child would, charmingly insistent. She took the small bouquet in her hands, brought it up to her nose, smelling politely.

"Mmmmm, thank you." The warmth of her smile lit the entire room, the lamplight shone off her pearly teeth.

"You're welcome," Seth had to stop himself from leaning forward to touch her—to kiss her, sweep her hair off of her brow. "Listen, do you want dinner? Or maybe just some wine?"

"Wine would be good," Summer nodded slightly.

"I got your favorite," Seth called out over his shoulder, already halfway to the kitchen. "The Riesling, and I'm just going to go get a corkscrew..." his voice trailed away, and Summer could hear him rummaging through the drawers like a madman. No doubt trying to get that bottle open before she had another mood swing and kicked him out of the house. She bit back a laugh, wondering if he'd ever find it in their junk drawer. She decided to take pity on him, and followed his steps into the kitchen.

"You'll never find it," she rolled her eyes playfully, and stepped over to where he was standing, feeling out for the drawer handle. She realized in that moment how incredibly close they were standing to one another, so close that she could feel his breath on the back of her neck. She inhaled sharply, and reveled in the rush of blood to her brain that resulted.

"Here it is!" She exclaimed, trying to cover her trepidation with false cheer. After all, how long had she and Seth been apart? Did he still think she was as easy as the day he'd come over and taken her virginity?

_Oh, God. Did he see her as some plaything? Some week-long fling that would end when he left; no harm, no foul?_ Summer willed herself to calm down. Overthinking this whole thing is what had gotten her into trouble in the first place. No assumptions. She took a deep breath. _No assumptions._

Seth must have sensed her anxiety, because he took a large step back, rested his hip against the kitchen counter. "You go. In the living room, or where ever. Drink your wine...I'll just...make dinner. Start, um, start dinner. I'll make it." He had to get his erratic breathing and the wild stuttering under control. He took several long, deep breaths, counting to ten between each one. He had to be the one to stay in control. God only knew what Summer would be thinking, and how fast her mood could change. He just had to stay calm, collected.

"Seth...I just wanted to say, again, that I'm sorry for what I said. How I acted," Summer said, and Seth could see how difficult it was for her to admit that to him, to admit that she had been wrong. His heart leaped out to her, but he wasn't going to save her from herself, not this time. "It's been a long time since I've had to interact with anyone but Anna, or Kurt, or Coop...and I'm just a little out of practice."

Summer swallowed hard. Seth wasn't making this any easier on her; she could feel him staring at her, silently. "I guess what I'm trying to say...is that it would be really good if we could just be...um, if we could just be," she took a steadying breath, "friends."

She looked up at him expectantly, still so hesitant.

"Friends would be really cool," Seth agreed, his smile evident in his words, his gentle tone.

"Good," Summer nodded resolutely, and took the wineglass from him, ignoring the way his hand brushed hers tenderly in the process. She escaped from the kitchen, a hand to her chest, and took a long swallow of wine as soon as she was around the corner and out of his line of sight.

In the kitchen, Seth gulped from his own glass. He sighed heavily through his nose.

It was going to be a long ten days.

* * *

To be continued... 


	17. All the War Horses Wore Rubber Bands

"I can't believe you convinced me to come out here."

"Believe me, I'm right there with you, sister."

"Of course, should I really be surprised?" Summer asked, "you bring home my favorite bottle of wine, then you let me drink most of it, and then you ask me to come out and stand in this line full of ...Neanderthals."

"In all fairness, I just asked you to the movies... the line of Neanderthals is completely incidental."

"Either way, you got me drunk," Summer poking his chest accusingly.

"Yes," Seth slung his arm around her shoulder affectionately, "and I'm praying it lasts until we get back home so I can talk to you about that loan..."

Seth almost swore he heard an "oh, geez," from underneath his arm, but then the line was moving forward, and they, with it.

They were standing in the midst of close to fifty people, who were jostling and elbowing past them to get to the front door of the Paramount, the oldest movie theater in the City. That night the only shows playing were old Cary Grant movies, and while they were good, Seth didn't really understand the draw.

He stood on his tiptoes, his eyes sweeping the top of the crowd, bemused.

"Are they giving away free popcorn or something? Geez. Who knew this many people were desperate to see Philadelphia Story...?"

"Free popcorn?" Summer muttered disparagingly, rolling her eyes.

"What?" Seth protested, feigning hurt. "_I_ would get in line if they were giving away popcorn."

"And that is what makes you an enormous dork!"

"Oh, sn-ap!"

"Shut it, Cohen," Summer shoved her palm into his shoulder and he grabbed at her wrists to stop the assault. He pinned her arm behind her and was delighting in her squeals of protest when a passing gentleman glared at him. He immediately released her.

"What? What happened?" Summer asked, alert to his shift in temperament.

"Nothing, this guy just walked by and looked at me as if I were battering you, or massacring kittens, or something."

Summer laughed. "Oh, my God! Do you remember that poster you used to have in your dorm room that said..." she collapsed in a fit of giggles, "that said... "'Every time you masturbate God kills a kitten?' Do you still have that?"

Seth scratched the back of his neck, blushing. "I think my mom came over one weekend while I was out of town and threw it away. Along with my favorite t-shirt, I might add. I never should have given her a key."

"No!" Summer gasped, in mock-horror. "Not the Shakespeare one? _'Prose before Hos_'?" She took a long sip of soda from her straw.

"The very one," Seth sighed, in resignation. "She threw out my black Converse, my swim trunks and most of my Carebears..."

Summer grabbed at her nose and made some muffled choking sounds. "Great, Cohen, I just snorted Coke up my nose."

"Summer, don't say 'snort.'"

She laughed again, and Seth looked over the crowd again, bobbing around to see what was holding up the line.

"What the fuck?" he exclaimed in frustration. "Wait here, I'm going to go see what's taking so long..."

Summer looked uncertain for a moment, but then nodded her assent. The evening was bitterly cold, and Seth had bundled her up in a long sleeved button-down, a cardigan sweater, and a heavy coat, and then had fussed over her afterwards, adding a wool scarf, mittens, and a cute little beanie hat to her ensemble. She rocked forwards on the balls of her feet, liking the click of her little black boots when she rocked backwards again to the concrete.

Meanwhile, Seth fought his way to the front of the line, dodging several kids on scooters in the process. _Moses, someone should really make those punks get a license to ride those things._ He dashed up to the front of the line, and could finally see that the queue ended not at the box office of the old theater, but into a bar next door. _That figures ...people more interested in seeing other scantily-clad people gyrate to rap music than to see genuine American History preserved on film. _He should have known. Seth rolled his eyes and jogged back to where Summer was standing in line.

Only she wasn't standing alone any longer.

"Hey, beautiful," he heard above the talking club-goers. The guy couldn't have been more than twenty, clean and preppy, too pretty for someone like Summer. Even back in her superficial high school days, she liked her boyfriend-of-the-week to have a bit of an edge. Not counting that idiot Zach, of course. Regardless, the guy was undressing Summer—Seth's Summer—with his greedy little eyes, and Seth didn't like it one bit.

"Um, hey?" Summer replied stiffly, shifting from foot to foot. Her expression was clearly one of discomfort, but the jackass was staring everywhere but her face. He probably had a stupid name, too, like Tyler, or Aidan, or Hunter.

"Where you headed?" Hunter asked, still leering.

"Is it any of your business?" Summer asked, her tone contemptuous, fixing her sightless gaze on him. He probably had no idea that she was blind...

Hunter grinned in response.

"My friends and I have a VIP pass, if you want to come with us..."

"And wallow in the scent of Joop! and apple martinis? No thanks..."

Though Seth knew that Summer could hold her own with anyone, the fiercely protective part of him won out. Seth marched up to them, shouldered past the guy and slung his arm around Summer's shoulders. "Britney, honey ...we have to meet your parole officer in ten minutes, we better get moving..." He tapped his watch for emphasis.

Hunter made a fast break away down the sidewalk, not hazarding a backwards glance. Seth smirked, turning to look over his shoulder. _Awesome. _

"Excuse me!" Summer said, indignant. "I was being _hit on_ there. Way to salt my game."

"Yes, Summer, you were being hit on. By a fifty year old guy wearing a toupee," Seth cupped her elbow into his hand and guided her towards the front of the line.

"Really?" she asked, curiosity getting the better of her.

"No," he mumbled, grinning and shaking his head. He brought her to an easy stop in front of the box office, and pulled out his old, cracked leather wallet. "Two for Philadelphia Story ...hey, you guys aren't giving away free popcorn, are you...?" Summer elbowed him as he handed over the cash for their tickets. "...Nevermind," he amended, taking their tickets a few seconds later and taking her arm again before heading towards the doors of the theater.

"Listen here, woman, no more elbow jabs or I'm not going to have any ribs left."

"As I recall, there wasn't much there to begin with..." she teased, and then immediately flushed twelve different shades of red.

Seth coughed, and bit back a chuckle. They both fell silent as the usher tore their tickets and directed them to the corridor on the left. Seth escorted Summer in, and then found seats for both of them in the back of the theater. There were two couples in the front, heads drawn together privately. Another couple had brought their two teenage children, both of whom looked liked they'd rather be anywhere than on a date with their parents.

Seth smiled at everyone that made eye contact, whispering to Summer every time they reached another stair. She carried herself flawlessly, responding to his commands with ease, and grace, even.

"Here," Seth said, directed her with a hand on her back. "The row is empty." Summer edged her way down the aisle of seats, sidling to the middle and plopping down in one of the old red velvet seats. Seth eased into the seat next to her, then helped her remove her coat, her hat, and scarf. She settled back, her hands folded neatly on her lap.

Seth's breath caught in his throat. The pale teal of her shirt brought out the color in her olive skin, made her glow becomingly. Her jeans hugged her curvy figure in a way that made his own pants a little tight. He shifted in his seat.

"I haven't been out to a movie theater since the accident," Summer confessed in a hushed tone. She smiled. "Thanks for this, then."

Seth bit his lip, breathing harder. _Don't kiss her. Don't. _

"Hey, you ever wonder why they show previews at the classic movie theater?" he forced an anxious laugh.

She gave him an indulgent smile. "I've never really thought about it."

The lights went down in the theater, and the reel started with a crackly swell of music. Seth sat back in his seat, relieved that he didn't have to make any more polite conversation. Seth, the compulsive talker, the nervous babbler ...forcing pleasantries. It was ironic, to be sure. But also heartbreaking.

Why should he feel obliged to make conversation with the woman he loved, just for the sake of it? Not that comfortable—or even uncomfortable—silences had ever been their specialty, but they'd never just made chit-chat because they were too nervous to do anything else.

Summer enjoyed the film—he recalled that they'd watched it together before, probably in college, and he found himself chronicling the events on the screen even though she didn't need it. At some point during the movie, his hand shifted down to where hers rested on the armrest, and he took it into his own. She'd didn't protest, or pull away, and to his utter embarrassment, he didn't even notice until the lights came back up, and she cleared her throat. She pulled her hand away and very purposefully busied herself with redressing herself in the many layers she shed before the movie. Seth stared at the sticky floor, kicking himself.

She was probably thinking up a list of ways to make his life miserable at that very moment. He couldn't believe the audacity—though it had been completely unintentional—and he knew she was probably thinking the same thing. _God, he'd fucked up again. Typical. Typical Seth Cohen. Master fuck-up. They should give him a degree in it, or something. He should at least have something to show for it..._

Summer brought him out of his self-flagellation. "Ready?" She asked, shaking her lovely head. The ball on the top of her beanie cap bounced pertly. _She's so adorable, it's ridiculous. _

"Sí, Señor Freddy," Seth answered, offering his arm to her.

Summer frowned. "Huh?"

"As in, _'Ready, Freddy?'_"

Summer rolled her eyes, "Seriously, Cohen, if they gave medals for being dorky, yours would be..._really_ shiny."

Seth grinned, "I was just thinking... something along those same lines."

"Really? Did it involve titties and that guy from Miami Vice?"

"_What?_" Seth shook his head, completely at a loss.

"Well, that's the only way you could _get_ any dorkier..." Summer supplied, placing her gloved hand on his forearm, allowing him to lead her down the row towards the stairs.

"Summer, I have to say that sometimes, you are a complete mystery to me."

Summer squared her shoulders, proud. "What can I say? I'm like Anastasia... or one of those Bond girls."

"Bond girls?"

"Uh, _yeah_. Like how did they always end up with perfect hair?"

"Must be one of life's little mysteries," Seth said as they stepped off onto solid ground and left the theater.

"Not really...it's just Hollywood, trying to make the rest of us feel hopelessly inadequate."

"Um, not that I doubt your adequacy, or inadequacy, for that matter, but what do you say to a caramel macchiato?

"Since when do you drink frilly coffee?"

"I don't. You do. You get the macchiato, I get a stiff shot of espresso and possibly a swift kick to the head, as well."

"Well, okay. As long as I'm home by eleven."

Seth shot her a sideways glance.

"Curfew," she explained, sadly. Then she winked. _Winked._ Seth shook his head in bewilderment.

From the recesses of Summer's purse, the MacGuvyer theme song began playing, drawing both out of their private thoughts.

"It's Kurt," Summer explained as she dug through her bag in search of her cell phone.

"I'm sure glad that didn't go off during the movie," Seth said, as they glided to a stop on the sidewalk. "I'm not sure everyone else would have appreciated that Kurt could build a bomb out of nothing but string and a coat hanger."

"Yeah, yeah," Summer answered dismissively, finally finding her phone, and silencing the annoying jingle with a press of her perfectly-manicured thumbnail. She brought it to her ear.

"Grüß dich!" She said, too cheerfully. "Das ist Summer's House of Torture and Pain. How would you like to grovel for forgiveness today?"

"I _am_ sorry," Kurt actually had the good sense to sound contrite, and Summer found her resolve weakening. Kurt really was one of her favorite people, when he wasn't being a complete ass. "I was just frustrated, and your bad mood didn't help."

"Es geht! I'm sorry, too," she admitted, exasperated.

"Wait, did this phone just cut out?" Kurt tapped the receiver. "I could have sworn you just said you were sorry."

"Yeah, yeah. Wie geht es Anna?"

"Danke, gut. Her mother's keeping her hopping. Mrs. Stern won't even come out of her bedroom, won't even get out of bed. She keeps sending Anna running back and forth. And you know how Anna is, waiting on her hand and foot. Lord knows she's had practice," Kurt teased.

"Ha ha. Have the cousins tried to smother her in her sleep yet?"

Kurt chuckled. "Not yet, but I wouldn't put it past a couple of them."

"Well, tell her I love her, will you?"

"Will do. Hey, it sounds like you're out," Kurt said, hearing the honking of a passing car in the background. Summer pressed her index finger against her free ear.

"We are. I almost forgot to tell you!" she said excitedly. "We went to the Paramount to see Philadelphia Story, and now we're going to Starbucks, and then we might go down to the red light district, try to pick up dates..."

"Okay, okay, no need to abuse the sarcasm."

Summer grinned, scuffed her toe against the ground, dancing around. "I was serious...about the movie, anyway."

"Really? Summer, that's excellent. I'm so proud," Kurt placed his palm over the mouthpiece. "Hey, honey, Seth took Summer to the movies..."

Summer rolled her eyes during this exchange. Seth bounced back and forth on his feet, radiating nervous energy.

"...no, like to an actual movie theater...No, to..."

"Kurt. Kurt!"

"What, Sum?"

"As fascinating as this..._isn't_, we have to go."

"Okay. Make sure Seth takes good care of you."

Summer blushed hotly. "I will."

"Okay, we'll talk to you soon."

"Bye. Tschüs."

"Auf Wiedersehen."

Summer turned her phone off, and dropped it unceremoniously back into her purse.

"I didn't know you spoke German," Seth commented quietly.

Summer ducked her head modestly. "Just a little, Kurt is teaching me."

"That's awesome," Seth said sincerely.

"It is," Summer tilted her face up, as if to gaze upwards into his easy, open face.

"I know it's late...but maybe tomorrow, we could...talk...catch up. There's so much that has changed."

"Sure," Summer answered, though she looked anything but.

"Great," Seth smiled tightly, and offered his arm to her again. She took it, and they headed back towards the apartment, each lost in their own thoughts.

* * *

To be continued... 


	18. To Hide Their Hooves From Sinking Sand

"Seth, Seth…" Summer's melodic voice was calling him, across a rich green pasture of fresh clover, dandelions twelve feet tall towering above his head. Their bristly stalks irritated the sensitive flesh of his fingertips as he passed by them, his arms outstretched. The sky above him was the most delicate shade of lavender—only it wasn't sky—it was more like the ocean, only upside down; and the cresting of the waves sounded like his name, _Seth, Seth, Seth…_ And _he_ wasn't Seth, or rather, he didn't have that familiar face that greeted him every morning in the bathroom mirror. Instead he was faceless, headless, amorphous. He could still hear Summer calling to him, but he couldn't see her, couldn't find her. His panic began to grow the longer she called out to him. The dandelions around him became a forest; the trees blocked his path no matter which way he turned. Branches grabbed for his arms and legs, vines twisted upwards from the Earth. All sound, the rushing of the purple ocean, the whistle of the wind through the trees; every whisper was silenced. Finally, in his ear, as clear as the ring of a silver bell:

"Seth!"

"Summer!" Seth shot straight up in bed, his heart pounding ruthlessly against his fragile ribs. The machine in the corner that purified every cubic inch of the air in his bedroom chugged along, unfailing. Next to it, the humidifier buzzed happily. His wild eyes discerned her shape in the dull darkness of the room; her chest was heaving also. Had she had a nightmare, a premonition? Or was it just her nerves that had her so rattled?

Across the three feet of distance between them, Seth inhaled the soft aroma of her perfume, and his dick hardened agonizingly. She smelled like roses, fresh summer roses. She had always smelled like roses, for as long as he could remember. He'd lost his virginity to Summer at the age of sixteen, and he recalled that as he had made love to her, her entire bed, her body, had smelled of roses. He'd lost his heart to Summer at the age of six, when he saw her for the first time in the library of their elementary school—they'd both been checking out the same book, Maurice Sendak's Where the Wild Things Are; and as he'd stood behind her in line, her hair had smelled just like roses then, too.

"Seth?" Concerned.

"Summer…are you hurt? Are you okay? What happened?" he asked, breathlessly.

"I'm fine," she answered shortly, suddenly all-business.

"You're not hurt, and you're not ill. It's 2 a.m.," he explained patiently. He carelessly mussed his already bedraggled curls with a sweep of his hand across his brow. The room around them seemed to grow darker. Seth shivered.

"I wanted to talk," she admitted in a whisper.

"Talking is good," he agreed. "But could it possibly wait until I've had some coffee…and um, some daylight?"

"It's about what you said earlier," Summer continued, ignoring his plea. "I've been thinking about it."

"And…" Seth prodded, folding his legs Indian-style in an effort to get comfortable, resigned to the fact that they were apparently going to have this powwow in their pajamas in the middle of the night after all.

"And," she bit her bottom lip between her teeth, a nervous habit she picked up in college. "And I don't think we should try to do this thing, to be friends."

Seth flopped backwards onto his pillow dramatically, and groaned. "Oh, don't do _this_ again!_ 'I'll be a total ass to Seth…no wait, we can get along…no wait, I'm back to being a total bitch…no wait, Seth, let's be friends…no wait, now I'm back to thinking I hate Seth'_," Seth mimicked her in falsetto.

"It's not that easy!" Summer retorted, exasperated. "And I don't hate you," she added, sounding wounded.

"Then explain it to me," Seth laughed mirthlessly, "because I sure as hell don't understand it." He continued to stare up at the ceiling, which had been meticulously covered with wallpaper. Normally he found the satiny pattern of the white fleur-de-lis to be comforting—but now he was battling the urge to put his fist through the wall. "Every time I think I'm getting somewhere with you…"

Summer reared back in that defensive posture that Seth knew so well, immediately defiant. He lifted his head slightly, just enough to see if she already had her hand on her hip. She didn't. "_Getting somewhere_ with me?" she asked, sassy. "_Where_, exactly, are you trying to go?"

He bugged out his eyes the way he always did when he was at his wit's end. "Don't do that. Don't deconstruct everything I say. I just meant that every time I think I'm getting close again, you pull back and slam the door shut. We've been seesawing back and forth and it's making me nuts!"

"You were right, what you said tonight—about us not knowing each other anymore," Summer argued fiercely. "You not knowing that Kurt was teaching me German is just the tip of the iceberg. It's about you not knowing about me and Anna, moving in together; it's about you not knowing I didn't work anymore, that I'm confined to this…prison day and night. There's a lot you don't know about me anymore, Cohen. This whole huggy-feely let's-get-to-know-each-other-again bullshit is running me into the ground. It's too hard to fill you in on four years of my life that you've just…missed. Not that it's your fault," she jumped in quickly. "It's just…_complicated_," she sighed, weary, "…and I think that this whole idea that we can be friends—after all we've been through—is just…asking too much."

"We were friends before…I mean, before we got together. Why not now?"

"Cohen, we were never _friends_," Summer assured him matter-of-factly.

"Oh, yeah, well what about the time we sprung Marissa from the looney bin?"

"I came all the way to your house, to your room, for something that I totally could have handled on my own, and then we spent like, the entire afternoon flirting."

"Okay…then what about Tijuana?"

"Cohen, we slept in a bed together and I threatened you with bodily harm if you touched me so that you wouldn't know how much I wanted you to touch me. And considering that _you_ had loved _me _since like, fifth grade…"

"First grade," Seth corrected quietly.

"Huh?"

"First grade. I've loved you since the first grade."

Summer's heart melted precipitously when she imaged his kicked-puppy face, the face he was probably wearing at that exact moment. It was the expression he'd worn the day they had looked through those old yearbooks in Marissa's bedroom; when Summer had realized for the first time how utterly alone Seth had been before Ryan came along. It was the same look he had when he saw her choose Zach over him for the first time, and the second time, and the third time. She suddenly had the absurd need to see his face, just once more, just one last time. If she could only have her sight back for a minute…for a single sixty seconds…all she wanted to see, all she'd ever wanted to see, was Seth's face, staring back at her.

"Seth," her tone was soft, plaintive. _Don't make this harder for me. _She closed her eyes, prayed for strength._ Still selfish after all these years, aren't you, darling? _"After this week is over, Anna will be back, and you'll go back to your life, and there just doesn't seem to be a need to fight about this. All it will do is drag up painful stuff for both of us that we really don't have to drag up at all."

"And what about after this week?" Seth asked, his breath catching in his throat.

"What about it?"

"Well, when we see each other after this week, eventually it's going to come up. We'll have to talk this out, sooner or later," Seth pointed out.

"I don't think that's such a good idea," Summer used both hands to tuck her hair behind her ears. She kept her face downcast so that Seth wouldn't see the tears welling up in her eyes. "You're busy with work, and Ryan…and your girlfriend and youdon'tneedmetoscrewthatup."

"My-my _girlfriend_?" Seth stammered, taken aback.

"Don't you?"

"Not right now…not for a while," he answered honestly, squirming.

"Well, don't you think if you got one, she would care that you're still friends with a girl you used to be engaged to?"

"Wait, wait, wait," Seth brought his hands up to stop her. "_Now_ we're hypothesizing about what a _purely theoretical girlfriend_ would think about us being friends?"

"So?"

"So, that's ridiculous."

Summer huffed. "Look, I know that when this week is over, you're going to leave, and I don't want to cry any more, okay?" she exclaimed, standing abruptly. She turned to leave, but Seth's hand snaked around her wrist and he pulled her back in, pulled her close enough to hear his whisper.

"And what about all the times I cried?"

"Exactly my point! We're just making each other miserable…still making each other miserable."

"Summer, you never made me miserable. A little crazy sometimes…but never miserable. Not ever."

Summer's heart broke all over again, and she felt the hard, sad knot in her chest pulling tighter. "Let's just get through the week, okay?" Her voice wavered, clearly on the edge of tears now. "I think we can both be civil for a week."

"_Fine_. If that's what you want, then fine," Seth said angrily, dropping her wrist immediately. He turned over onto his side in the bed, facing the wall. Summer remained standing where she was, at the end of the bed, a forlorn tableau of misery.

"Please leave now. I need to sleep, I have work tomorrow."

"Okay," she rasped, leaving the room, only the faint aroma of roses still lingering in the air behind her. Seth felt a single tear rolling down his cheek towards the pillow.

* * *

Seth woke up feeling exhilarated, feeling different. He had a plan. No longer was he going to be stymied by Summer's insistence that they ignore the problem between them. The chemistry—the power—felt by both of them, had always been undeniable. Uncompromising. _Why should they start now?_

He dressed in sweatpants and a thin t-shirt, trusting his body to compensate with heat and deflect the chilly morning air. He jogged down the stairs to the street, forgoing the interminable elevator ride and ran three miles, circling the blocks surrounding the apartment six times. After his run, he jumped in a cold shower and planned out what he was going to say to Summer as he shampooed his hair.

He whistled as he got dressed—_God bless the daylight, the sugary smell of springtime. Remembering when you were mine, in a still suburban town_—and carefully combed his messy hair.

He found Summer sitting at the kitchen table, sipping a steaming mug of coffee.

"Good morning, I see you're up early," he commented cheerfully.

"Yes, your efforts to wake the dead were wildly successful," she retorted dryly. She listened, feigned nonchalance, as Seth stuck Poptarts into the toaster and poured his own cup of coffee. "So what's so great about today that you felt the need to sing in the shower and whistle getting dressed?"

"Ahhh," Seth brought his breakfast over to the table and sat down across from her. "I have decided that I'm not going to let you off so easily. I'm not going to accept 'no' as an answer from you."

Summer raised one perfectly-waxed eyebrow. "Oh?" She took a sip of bitter black coffee: another punishment.

"You forget how well I know you," Seth abandoned the pretense of eating, and came around to where she was sitting, placing one hand on the kitchen table and the other on her chair-back, effectively boxing her in. "Do you remember all those times you dropped little hints about your birthday or Christmas? You'd say, _'boy, I sure want a fill-in-the-blank, oh, but Christmas is coming up and I can't afford it,'_ knowing full well you could afford it, and knowing I knew you could afford it. But you were trying to make it easy for me.

"That time in Saks, when you were stalking the Chanel counter, and I asked if you wanted me to get you that bottle of your favorite perfume, and you played coy and said we mustn't."

"_Mustn't_? Since when have I ever said '_mustn't_'?"

Seth gave her a pointed look that she couldn't see, but that she imagined well enough. She inhaled deeply, basking in the warm, spicy scent of his aftershave, sandalwood. "Right. Not the point."

Seth leaned in to murmur, his voice rough with too-little sleep and just a hint of desire, "…just like when I wanted to have sex, and you would pretend you didn't. But then you would put on your green dress, because you knew how crazy it would make me, and then you'd beg me to fuck you up against the door. Remember that?"

Summer took a shaky breath, her vocal chords immobile. She nodded, almost against her will.

"Now I know that you wouldn't be having such a hard time with this if it wasn't something you wanted."

Summer ducked her head, concentrating on her napkin, which she was tearing to shreds and balling up between her fingers. She paused, carefully considering her answer. Nothing she said would placate Seth. She might as well not even try….and yet… "Sometimes…what we want is not what is right for us," she replied softly, refusing to meet his gaze.

Seth absorbed this, and sighed. "Why are you being so difficult?"

"Because it has to be that way," she said simply, a sliver of napkin catching under her fingernail uncomfortably.

"Since when do you get to be the boss of us?" Seth asked, straightening.

"There is no us," Summer countered. "I _appreciate_ that you want to be friends," she continued, reaching her hand out to tug on the hem of his shirt. "But after…the accident…Seth, I _gave_ you your freedom. I _released_ you from the burden of caring for a blind wife. I don't want you to hate me," her breath hitched. "But I don't want to fall in love with you again, either." She swallowed back her tears. "Go. Enjoy your freedom. Sow your wild oats, or whatever… But don't waste your time chasing after something you don't want, but feel like you should want just because I'm blind. I never wanted you to feel that way…that's _why_ I didn't tell you in the first place."

Seth slammed his palm down on the table hard in barely-contained frustration, relishing the sting of pain the action provided. The movement and sound made Summer jump, startled, and the coffee mug in front of her rattled, sloshing hot coffee out around and down the sides of the porcelain cup. He left without saying another word; she heard the crinkle of fabric as he snatched his track jacket from the coat rack and left the apartment, slamming the door behind him. Summer folded her arms on the tabletop, dropped her head down into the hollow there, and sobbed.

* * *

To be continued… 


	19. How Small Seeds Gracefully to Grow

Seth didn't call. Five p.m. passed, then six p.m., then seven, seven-thirty, and eight p.m. He hadn't called all day. Summer didn't want to admit to being worried, but she was. Seth was a wallower, he enjoyed wallowing and the masochistic pleasure that it brought.

After about five minutes of weeping hysterically at the kitchen table that morning, Summer had pulled herself together and washed her face at the kitchen sink, scrubbing off the streaked make-up that she'd spent a ridiculous amount of time applying. Once when she was young—back when she could see—she joked to Marissa that she knew cosmetics so well that she could put her make-up on in the dark. It was like some sort of a cruel cosmic joke that God had taken her up on it.

She'd spent the entire morning hating herself for being such a jerk. Since the accident it had not been uncommon for her to go through periods of self-loathing, but this bout was particularly bad. In the past, there had always been a hazy undercurrent, an awareness that she didn't _really_ hate herself, it just seemed like she should. She blamed God, her father, the world, anyone but herself for her condition; there had always been an underlying impression that there was still some good left inside of her.

That was all different now. She was evaluating her circumstances in a different light. And not just with Seth, though she wished it could be that simple. She'd taken advantage of Anna horribly, making Anna feel guilty about leaving Summe alone, even for an evening, even for a date with her boyfriend. She was making Anna feel guilty about wanting to marry Kurt; Kurt had always wanted Summer to be more independent, to stop relying on Anna for every little thing. Kurt would not marry Anna as long as Anna insisted on staying with Summer. And, knowing that, Summer had subconsciously gone out of her way to make the decision more difficult for Anna. The more Kurt ingratiated himself into their lives—the closer he got to Anna—the more Summer selfishly pulled Anna in towards her. Summer made Anna feel guilty for wanting a life of her own: a life where Kurt's needs, Anna's own needs, didn't take a backseat to Summer's capricious whims.

Summer had blamed her father for all but completely ignoring her since the accident, though to be fair, she'd done her best to push him away. He'd never been a great father, or role model, but as a child she'd been desperate for his attention. Even as a teenager, she'd acted as if he walked on water—hoping that her adulation would endear her to him in a way that it never had before. She'd been wrong, oh so very wrong. But even her father, her absent, selectively-overbearing father, didn't deserve the misery she'd put him through.

But the true root of her ignominy lay with Seth, and Seth alone. She had been acting like a child, jerking him around, acting the way she did in high school—like she was the town princess, and he should be so lucky. _Playing him hot and cold._ Now it was the other way around. He was handsome, he had a good job, he was doing what made him happy…and she, in the most ironic twist of fate, was the loser.

The dark heart of her shame was that she'd know all along she was stringing him along. It wasn't her intention to do so, but her indecisiveness had been decidedly destructive. She would be surprised if Seth spoke to her at all for the rest of the week.

Summer was tired of crying. She was tired of feeling sorry for herself, she was tired of the sorrow that Seth's presence dredged up, but most of all, she was tired of being constantly on her guard. She could make a conscious effort to just play it cool, to just let up, let loose.

At eight-thirty, Summer's itchy fingers finally got the better of her, and she decided to call Seth on his cell. She took one step towards the phone in the foyer when it dawned on her that she'd never _gotten_ his cell number—she'd just never even thought to ask. She picked up the cordless handset. He worked at the Post; she would just call the reception desk and ask for him. But what if they asked what department he worked in? She didn't even know—she hadn't even bothered to ask. She hadn't bothered to ask what he did, or if he really liked it, or what he wanted to do next. _Still unbearably selfish, aren't you, darling? _

She called information and asked for a residence listing for Seth Cohen. There were 3 hits, but none of them anywhere close to their side of town. She was about to hang up in defeat when on a lark, she asked for listings for Atwood, Ryan. Only one listing in the entire city.

She waited to be connected.

"Ryan?" she blurted as soon as he picked up. "It's Summer. Is Seth there with you?"

"Haven't seen him," Ryan answered, curious. "Why?"

"Well, we had a fight this morning…"

"No kidding," he snarked.

"…a fight," Summer continued deliberately. "And he hasn't called, or come home, or anything." She hated that she was perilously close to tears. She wasn't going to do this, not again. _Buck up, princess, you're not a baby_.

Ryan took charge. "Okay, I'll call his cell phone. If he doesn't answer, I'll come and stay with you until he gets back."

"No, you don't have to do that," Summer began to protest.

"It's no trouble," he said shortly. "Stay put."

"Okay, thanks."

Ryan hung up without saying goodbye. _Typical. _

Exactly two minutes and sixteen seconds later—she knew because she counted—she heard fumbling behind the front door. If she hadn't been expecting him, she would have thought someone was trying to break in. If the neighbors didn't think she was crazy trailer-trash already, they sure would think so after listening to Seth's antics—_lunacy_—all day. They probably thought the tenants in 3B were holding a door-slamming contest.

Summer marched into the foyer and flung the door open to reveal a very intoxicated Seth Cohen, who was still trying unsuccessfully to get his house key into the lock. He grinned at her lecherously.

He reeked of gin and stale cigarette smoke.

"You're drunk!"

"And you are sober. I wonder which one of us is having more fun."

Summer cocked a hand onto a slim hip, and narrowed her eyes accusingly. "Well, it certainly isn't me," she declared, irate.

"Yes, I think we established that in the whole '_you're drunk!_', '_well, you're sober_' exchange," Seth mocked her mercilessly. He brushed past her towards the kitchen, barely grazing her, but grazing just where it mattered. Her nipples hardened immediately, she gasped in response. Seth pretended that he didn't notice. He stumbled into the kitchen and grabbed a corkscrew from the drawer where he knew it was kept. He thought about grabbing bread, a piece of fruit, _something_ to help him sober up, but in the end, he just turned around and headed straight back towards the guest bedroom. Summer was still standing in the entry hall, though now facing the living room, speechless.

Seth didn't bother speaking to her, either. He made it down the hall and into his room, and he shut the door very deliberately, though without any force.

Back in the foyer, the phone in Summer's left hand rang, startling her. "I found him," she intoned before Ryan had even uttered 'hello.'

"Okay," he muttered, and then hung up.

Once in his room, Seth shrugged out of his button-down dress shirt and kicked off his shoes. It took him a few tries to unbuckle his belt, but he managed to remove it, before throwing it haphazardly towards the closet door.

He scratched his chest, and then decided to uncork his wine bottle.

Out in the hall, Summer debated with herself about forcing another confrontation.

A few seconds later, a pitiful guitar solo started up that she could hear through the door. After Kirsten Cohen had been shipped off to rehab the summer before their senior year of high school, Seth had fallen into a considerable depression. Like everything else in his life, his sadness needed a soundtrack, and so he made one, comprised of mostly old country and western songs. He called it the Sad Bastard mix, and he played it whenever he felt a little down and out. Summer remembered it well.

George Jones was the first song on the Sad Bastard mix, and Summer had heard "He Stopped Loving Her Today" enough in the year after Trey's death—Caleb Nichol's death—that she recognized it immediately. She closed her eyes.

She knocked, and then pushed the door open. Seth hiccupped in response. Summer heard the slosh of wine in the bottle as Seth brought it up to his lips and took a long swallow.

"You're drinking _more_?" her voice rose an octave.

"_So?_" Seth retorted belligerently. "I'm here, aren't I?"

"Yeah, and you're _wasted_," she fired back. "You might as well be gone."

"Is that what you want, Summer? You want me to _leave_?" Seth slurred, stepping forward, wanting to get into her face, wanting to fight dirty, for once.

"Not stinking drunk, I don't. You'd probably step off a curb in front of a car and get yourself killed."

"Yeah, and what would a heartless bitch like _you_ care?"

Summer gasped, shocked. Instinctively, she brought her hand up to slap him. Her small palm stung across his cheek. He had a day's worth of stubble on his face, and her hand smarted afterwards. He smelled of sandalwood. Summer's knees grew a little weak.

Seth grabbed her wrist to prevent further violence against him. He was suddenly painfully, urgently aware of his bare chest, and her close proximity. This time, he didn't—_couldn't_—resist the urge. He drew her towards him and kissed her mouth as if he was a drowning man and she was his last breath of freedom, of life. Their lips and tongues clashed hotly. Summer clung to shoulders, almost desperately, returning his lust, meeting his tongue thrust for thrust. Her ardor burned through her skin, through her clothes, through the air around her; Seth felt it, too. His hands fell to the small of her back, and he pressed her closer, her breasts were flush against his chest, her nipples still erect, driving him half-mad with desire.

When they broke for air a minute later, panting, he pressed his forehead against hers. "You knew this was coming," he murmured, intimately. She shook her head, mute.

"That the longer we were here alone together, the more I would want to touch you," he gathered her body closer, into his arms. "…and hold you and kiss you."

She placed her hands against his warm skin of his collarbone and pushed away gently. "I don't want to fight anymore, Cohen."

"Me neither," he murmured, leaning forward to nuzzle her ear. She ducked slightly, avoiding him. He frowned.

"But I don't want this, either," she whispered. "Please don't try to…to force it. Let's just keep things simple, please?" Her lower lip trembled, but she wasn't going to cry. She was too strong for that. She stiffened her resolve.

Seth looked at her seriously for the first time since she'd barged in, and he sobered up slightly. For once, he could see her vulnerability, her fear. He reached a hand out to gently stroke her cheek, and she closed her eyes in response to his touch. It had been a hard lesson, but he'd learned long ago when to take Summer at her word. It didn't mean he couldn't continue to chip at her walls, but he had to take one victory at a time. He couldn't push too hard, or the whole house of cards would fall.

"Okay," he agreed, gruffly, "but no more games, Summer, I mean it."

"No more games," she nodded.

"And no more histrionics," he added.

She shook her head again.

"Promise me."

"I promise."

"Okay," he pulled her close again and laid a kiss on her forehead, then pushed her back again. "I won't kiss you again unless you ask me to."

"I won't. Ask," she promised again, giving him a little smile.

"Fair enough."

* * *

"Hey, An…" Kurt was cut short when he first caught sight of his beautiful girlfriend through her bedroom door, which was casually ajar. Her back was facing him, her head bent in concentration. The ceiling fan was whirling on high speed above her, though every room in the crotchety old mansion was ice cold and drafty, to boot. Her pink tights were pulled tight across her not-quite-knobby knees. He came in, a little hurt, feigning indifference. "Your mother was calling for you." 

Anna nodded, but didn't speak. She didn't turn around, but she cocked her head over her shoulder just slightly. Kurt walked towards her, sat down on the end of the bed, several feet from where she was already seated. The heavy damask curtains were pulled, making the room as dark as night, though it was a little past noon and the hills behind Anna's grandfather's house were glittering with fresh snow. Kurt shivered.

"I'm starting to get a little jealous," he admitted, almost nonchalant. Their bed had been carefully made that morning by one of the maids, a little mint laid on each of their pillows. It blended into the light green of the cotton sheets, Kurt thought idly that they'd have to be careful, or they would sit on them later and not even know it.

Anna laughed, nervously, fingering the tiny threads on the edge of the worn quilt beneath her. "Why?"

"Well, that's the fifth time I've caught you with the phone in your hand, but not calling anyone…" He reached a hand out to brush her hair back from her ear, gently touching her dangling chandelier earring in the process. He hated her taste in jewelry; he found it vulgar, unnecessary. He preferred diamond studs, or a delicate strand of freshwater pearls. She found his taste in jewelry insipid, unimaginative.

"I know," she sighed.

"Summer?"

She nodded again, still silent.

"Why don't you just call?"

"Because if she's miserable there with Seth, I know that I would go back home."

"What's the bigger problem?"

"I'm worried about her," Anna replied, honestly, though it wasn't the whole truth.

"She's fine, I talked to her last night. She and Seth were out at the movies, she didn't sound the least bit miserable. And you talked to her the night they got back from the hospital, she wasn't seriously hurt in the fall."

"I know," she agreed, ducking her head.

"Then what? Are you worried that she's lying to you? That I'm lying to you?"

"I'm not worried about that," Anna wiped stray tears away with her closed fist. She rested it under her chin after a moment, propped her elbow up on her thigh.

"You're worried about leaving her for me," Kurt said.

Anna nodded, now unable to speak, more tears tickling the back of her throat.

"Why?"

After a minute, "I don't want her to be alone."

"You're not moving to a foreign country, you're not dying… We can live right down the block from her, if you like…you could check on her any time you wanted. We can live in the same building, even, for Christ's sake."

"Just not _with_ her?" Anna asked, almost angrily. She turned to face him, finally.

Kurt sighed heavily, didn't answer for a moment. "Is that _really_ what you'd want our married life to be like? Her, living with us, listening to everything we said and did, all of our little intimacies? You want our children to wonder why their mother can't leave her best friend?"

Anna didn't reply.

Kurt stood, began to leave. "Your mother was calling for you."

She nodded in response, wiped away fresh tears. "I'll be there in a minute," she said, choked.

"I'll let her know."

He left, closing to door almost to, so that it was casually ajar once more. Anna picked up the phone again, but didn't dial.

* * *

To be continued… 

Sorry this chapter was so short, but a girl has to sleep...


	20. Did You Know You're All I Ask For?

Dark Night, Hold Tight, part 20

* * *

_Two days after her mother's "tragic accident", Neil Roberts had insisted that Summer return to school, despite protests that were whimpered, plead, screamed. Her mother was barely in the cold, hard, ground and already her father was moving on, moving away. He dropped Summer off on the front steps twenty minutes after the funeral ended; she had missed her first two classes. _

_She was still wearing the frilly blue dress that her great aunt Lydia insisted that she wear, though Fadia Roberts had hated that pale baby blue, and Summer liked it even less. It did absolutely nothing for her complexion. When she walked in the front door of Harbor Middle School, the bell rang signaling the beginning of the fifteen-minute break between second and third period that was their mid-morning "recess". _

_Summer walked calmly to her locker, though she was fighting waves of nausea that were pulsing underneath her skin. She'd spent the last sixty hours juggling sleeping and weeping, her face was still red and splotchy. She hadn't spoken to Marissa in days, despite numerous attempts on the latter's part. Talking with Marissa meant talking to Holly, and Megan, and Annabel. Talking to Marissa meant jumping back into her life as Harbor Middle School's Queen Bee._

_Summer wasn't ready for that, not for any of it. She just wanted her Mommy. Not the Mommy that had moped around the house for the last several years, sullen and uncommunicative. She wanted the Mommy of her youth; the Mommy that baked cookies that were still warm when Summer got home from school. She wanted the Mommy that read Summer's favorite bedtime stories to her every night, no matter how tedious it became to do so. She wanted the Mommy that her Daddy had loved, the Mommy that had made them a family. _

_Like evil teenaged Harpies, her friends arrived, swarming around her, drowning out her thoughts with vapid, insincere murmurings. Only Marissa remained silent, her hands tucked underneath her arms, her bony legs sticking out at awkward angles. Marissa never stood up to Holly, and Summer didn't figure that she would start anytime soon. _

"_Oh, my God, Summer…we had like, **no** idea," Holly gushed, running unwelcome fingers through the hair that fell down to the middle of Summer's back. _

_Summer was immediately wary. "No idea of what?" _

"_Like, the whole school is talking about it," Annabel chimed in. _

"_Talking about **what**?" Annoyed, now. _

"_Your mom," Megan answered, as it was obvious. "I mean, everyone knew she **died**…which I'm **so** sorry about, by the way, but we had **no** idea that she was one of **those** people." _

_Summer rolled her eyes, sighed. "One of what people?" _

"_You know…a towel-head," Holly giggled after the last word. _

"_A…w-what?" _

"_A towel-head. A camel jockey. You know…an A-rab." _

_Summer felt the blood draining from her face, her throat constricted painfully. "How did you know that?" _

"_It was written right up in the paper," Megan said, distracted, adjusting her ponytail in the mirror Summer kept on the inside of her locker door. "Had her name, and your name, and everything. My mom, had like, **no** idea. She always called Mrs. Rob…your mom… 'Fay.' You know, everyone did." _

_Holly's gum smacked loudly, Summer felt weak in the knees. _

"_So did your mom keep it like a big secret? I mean, did your dad know?" _

"_Did my dad know that my mom was Muslim? Of course he did," Summer responded irritably, clanging her locker door closed after she'd removed her English and Algebra textbooks. Megan frowned. _

"_Do you like, **miss** her?" Holly asked. _

"_No, she was a real downer," Summer retorted, then after a beat, "…**of course** I miss her." She turned away from her cronies, shot Marissa a grateful look for her silence. Her gaze moved from Marissa's face over her shoulder to a boy that was standing in the hall, staring at her, a look of deep melancholy across his features. His dark hair was clinging to his scalp in desperate curls; his pale skin was almost translucent. _

_Crabtree…Cartwright…Copeland…Cohen. The florescent light in the hallway glinted off of his braces when he opened his mouth to breathe. One of the eighth-grade soccer players walked by and shoved him into the nearest locker, bloodying his lip. Summer looked away._

"…_I just know if I had to go around with a name like that, I would totally change it." Megan was saying, her tone haughty. _

"_Huh?" _

"_Summer, haven't you been listening? I said that now that your mom is dead, your dad would probably let you get your name changed." _

"_My name?" Summer asked, dumbly. _

"_Yeah, the Summer and Roberts parts are fine, but all that gobbeldy-gook in the middle? Just get a nice, normal name, like Michelle, or Jennifer or something," Megan elucidated in her charming, regal manner. _

"_I'll think about it," Summer said absently, drifting away from her friends. She was feeling faint, not for the first time in the preceding few days. She looked for a bathroom, but she found herself lost in the crowd, lost in the confusion. She reached for the nearest doorknob and yanked on it, the people around her swelling and ebbing against her like tides. She escaped into the sanctity that the broom closet offered. She turned around on her heel and sank to the floor. To her surprise, she found herself face to face with a bruised and split lip…the blue rubber-banded braces…the dark, dreamy eyes. The kid from the hall, the one who'd just gotten trampled. _

"_Hi," she offered, tears shining in her own quiet eyes, matching his in depth and intensity. "You're probably in here because they're beating up on you, huh?" _

_In response, Seth took a long pull on his asthma inhaler. _

"_I'm in here because my mother died." _

_He nodded, he knew. Of course he knew, everyone knew. He probably thought she was a Muslim towel-head camel-jockey freak like everyone else did. _

"_All I want to do is go home and get under the covers," Summer sniffled, wiping away fresh tears. "I want my Nanny to bring me some cocoa, and I want to read the rest of _To Kill a Mockingbird _for English class…and I just want to sleep," she sighed, frustrated. She pressed her cheek against her knees, which were pulled up on her chest. _

_The boy across from her still said nothing. After about ten minutes, the closet began to get stuffy with both of them in there, just breathing. The bell rang, and Summer cocked her head. _

"_You going to class?" _

_He nodded in response. _

"_Me too," she replied, dismally. "Might as well."_

_He didn't move to stand, so she shrugged and rose to her feet. _

"_See you around." She left the broom closet without waiting for an answer, and then walked home. _

* * *

"Oh, Sum-mer!" Seth called in a sing-song voice.

Summer rolled her eyes. Leave it to Seth to disturb her positive flow. Nevermind that she was vibrating at a totally high frequency. She _had_ been relaxed. She _had_ been meditating. _Of course_ Seth would come barging in, like a bull in a china shop.

A moment later, he barreled through her bedroom door. She was atop her pilates ball on her stomach, her palms pressed together and pointed to the floor as if she were a swimmer preparing for that perfect dive. Her legs were spread, bent at the knee, and the soles of her feet were also pressed together, posed perfectly in mid-air. She was balanced on the ball, and until the minute before, had been deep in concentration. Her ch'i had been harnessed, damnit.

"Summer!" Seth exclaimed, startled.

"What if I had been in here naked? Can't you learn to knock?" She snapped, not really meaning it.

"That would be a beautiful, holy moment. Let's envision it for a moment," Seth rocked back on his heels, silent.

"Let's not," she retorted dryly.

"What, _exactly_, are you doing?" He swallowed hard as she shifted on the ball.

"Yogilates. Your mom taught me."

"My mom," Seth parroted, disbelieving. "_My mom_ taught you how to be that…stretchy?"

"Your mom's in great shape, Seth," Summer told him matter-of-factly, rolling off the large bright-blue rubber ball. She wilted a little, "…at least she was the last time that I saw her."

"She still is," Seth assured her quickly. "But it just blows my mind…I mean, she's almost fifty."

Summer laughed. "Fifty is _not_ that old. For some people, that's not even half of their life."

Seth remained silent, watching her wander into a swath of late afternoon sunshine that was creeping across the carpet from the window behind her. He gazed at the caramel warmth that haloed her shining hair, his throat tight.

She flushed, "…what are you staring at? Have I got something in my teeth?"

"No," he whispered, his mouth suddenly stuffed with cotton.

The thin strap of her tank-top slid off her shoulder and down her arm. Wisps of her raven hair were slipping out of her ponytail. Her yoga pants were tight, hugging her hips.

"Then what?" she demanded.

"Nothing," he insisted, though even after he forced himself to look away and she no longer felt his scrutiny, she was suspicious.

"Why are you home so early? It's barely four o'clock," she wandered over to her vanity and pulled her hair back up, securing the dark locks back into the cotton-covered rubber band.

"Well," Seth rubbed his hands together. "I have the day off tomorrow, and I decided to play hooky this afternoon. So I rented _To Kill a Mockingbird_, and _Some Like It Hot_.

"To Kill a Mockingbird," she mused quietly. "I haven't read that book in years." She stared sightlessly at her own reflection.

"I know, I didn't understand the symbolism until I was in high school, even though they made us read it in what…the sixth grade?"

Summer cleared her throat, "Seventh."

"Seventh grade…I mean…Sure, I got that Heck Tate was protecting Boo Radley and not Jem, but it never really occurred to me that he was the mockingbird until I had read it like the…fifth time."

Seth had drifted across the hall to his own room and was removing his tie and dress shirt, his voice barely audible as he dug around in a drawer for a t-shirt.

"And then, the whole part about Jem and Mrs. Dubose and her flowers, the…"

Summer had stopped paying attention. Her fingers gripped the top of her vanity, her knuckles white. The last time she'd read about Atticus, and Scout and Jem had been the afternoon after her mother's funeral. She cried her eyes out that afternoon, unsure if she was crying for Arthur Radley, her mother, or her own mortality.

Her father never found out that she had skipped school that day, or for the week afterwards. No one noticed, no one except Seth. He'd told her one night when they were laying on the beach together, the summer after their graduation from high school.

She had almost forgotten all about it, but he reminded her of their whispered conference in the janitor's closet, in which he was so amazed that she was even speaking to him that he couldn't gather the wherewithal to say anything intelligible back.

"Maybe if you had, I would have thought you were a big stud," Summer had teased him, poking him in the ribs from her supine position under his arm.

"Yeah, right," he had answered quietly, a little sadly. She hated for him to be sad about the past, so she kissed him and reminded him that she was there, that moment, and that she wanted him.

"And then the scene in the courtroom, it's just so powerful, and I think the film just demonstrates the tension better…" Seth was in the bathroom now, speaking around a mouthful of toothpaste, not to mention the bristles of his toothbrush.

"I mean, not to criticize Harper Lee in any way, because I fully believe she's amazing…" Spit, gargle. "But no one, not even Atticus Finch, could hold a candle to Gregory Peck."

Summer's shoulders were shaking, her memories welling up in her like a dam about to burst.

"And Robert Duvall…I think that was one of his first roles…" Seth reappeared in her doorway, clad in tan corduroy pants and a soft green polo. Summer was bent over her vanity table, quietly laughing hysterically, tears streaming down her face.

"What?" Seth asked, mystified. Summer couldn't explain it, either. The combination of Holly, Annabel, Megan…the sheer pretension of suggesting she change her name before her mother was even cold in the grave…the ludicrousness of spending a half an hour in a broom closet with Seth Cohen, of all people, never realizing that he would one day grow into a tall, intelligent man, with whom she would be madly in love…To Kill a Mockingbird, Scout pointing the gun at Miss Maudie Atkinson's rear end, Atticus yelling out a warning.

"What? What did I say?"

Summer shook her head, beyond speech. She choked, put a hand to her breast, and took a deep breath, before bending over and whooping in laughter again.

"Well, damned if you do, damned if you don't, around here!" Seth muttered, wandering off towards the living room, shaking his head.

Summer finished laughing, wiped the moisture from her eyes, caught her breath, and then followed him down the hall.

* * *

To be continued… 


	21. My Darling Cries Apologies

Dark Night, Hold Tight, chapter 21

I want you to know this  
My anger's all but done  
Sweet Lord  
_I swear I've seen the darkness_  
Sweet Lord  
_I swear I've seen some pain_  
Satellites ahead  
_So hold on _

--The Doves, "Satellites"

* * *

"So what are we going to do tonight?" Summer asked, later that evening. She and Seth were sitting together on the couch after dinner; he was flipping through the TV Guide; she was painting her fingernails.

Seth shot her a quizzical sideways glance à la Ryan. "Do?" he clarified.

"Surely you have something planned…bellydancing lessons, or an impromtu trip to surgery…ooh! We could totally go and get tattoos…"

"Sure, smart ass," Seth retorted cheerfully. "Right after the white water rafting and bungee jumping."

"Hey!" Summer volleyed. "Blind people don't bungee jump!"

Thoroughly chastised, Seth ducked his head in embarrassment, did not answer.

"Wanna know why?" Summer continued slyly.

"Um, why?"

"Because it scares the hell out of the dog!" she collapsed into a fit of giggles. Seth stared, slack-jawed. Summer sat up after a few moments of uncomfortable silence, and said, "…it's okay to laugh."

"It just _seems _wildly insensitive, huh?" Seth murmured, affectionately ruffling her hair while she adjusted her position on the couch, moving closer to him.

"It's not insensitive when _I_ tell them," she replied primly, picking imaginary lint off of the leg of her jeans. "Lawyers know the best lawyer jokes…blondes know the best blonde jokes…perverts know the best dirty jokes…and I know the best blind jokes."

Seth wrinkled his nose comically. "Is there a big market out there for blind jokes?"

"Well, duh," Summer waved her fingers daintily. "So…this guy goes into a bar with his dog, and as he gets up to the counter, the bartender says, '_hey, you can't bring a dog in here_,' so they guy says, '_well, I guess I understand, but this is my seeing-eye dog_.' And so of course the bartender apologizes and gets the guy a beer. He sits down, and a few minutes later, another guy comes in, and he has a dog with him, too. The first guy sees him, and says, '_they don't allow dogs in here, so you'll have to tell them it's your seeing-eye dog_.' The second guy agrees and goes up to the bar. When the bartender comes over, he says, '_hey, fella, you can't bring that dog in here_.' And, of course, the second guy says, '_but he's my seeing-eye dog_.' And the bartender says, '_yeah, right, I don't think so pal. That's a Chihuahua_.' And the guy says… '_They gave me a Chihuahua!_"

This time, Seth chuckled right along with Summer, tickling her ribs and making her breathless with laughter, just for good measure.

"What would you think about going to visit my Nana?" he asked suddenly once they had stopped giggling.

"Entirely-too-Jewish-, about-yay-high…crazy-for-her-_Sethela_-Nana?"

"That's the one," Seth replied, holding his breath.

Summer smiled. "I'd love to."

* * *

"So I sometimes used to wonder if you were The Nana's only grandchild…or just her favorite," Summer admitted, as she and Seth walked arm-in-arm down the boulevard towards Sophie's new apartment. "Seriously, not even Marissa's grandparents treat her that well, and that's amazing considering everyone else seems to think she invented shoes, or something."

Seth laughed. "I'm not even close to her only grandkid. You know, my dad has a brother, Max, and he has two daughters, Lauren and Esther, and they both have two kids now, and I forget all their names, but they're all under the age of four. Sophie's daughter Sarah has seven children, but Sarah never really got along with the rest of the family, so I don't even know if The Nana gets to _see_ Sarah's kids. So…I think I must just be her favorite," Seth concluded blithely.

"I don't remember my grandparents, really," Summer said matter-of-factly.

"I know," Seth carefully tucked a lock of her hair back away from her face, then pulled her cap down a little more to cover the tips of her glowing ears. She grinned at him, silently expressing her appreciation. Her heart swelled when she thought about how well Seth had taken care of her this week that they'd been together. Sure, Anna was paying him, and yes, they'd fought... but he was so tender with her, still so gentle after all this time.

Seth smiled widely as they reached the door of the Nana's brownstone. He rang the bell, hearing the shrill shriek resound through the empty foyer. Nebulous shapes and colors behind frosted glass sharpened into a round, olive face, an aquiline nose, and wild springy curls that were frosted blond for the tedious winter months.

"_Sethela_!" The Nana cried jubilantly, embracing her grandson with all the fervor she could muster. Summer held onto the soft corduroy of Seth's coat, bunching the fabric in her fingers, hiding behind him. "And who have you brought with you?..." The Nana pushed Seth aside and drew a sharp breath when he sidled out of the way.

"Summer? Is that you?" Sophie asked, though she knew perfectly that it was. She engulfed Summer into an enthusiastic hug and then pulled back to inspect her carefully. "Have you been eating? You look too thin. Seth, has she been eating?" Sophie herded them both indoors, helping them to remove coats, hats and scarves.

"I've been eating," Summer bit her lip through her smile, powerless to be irritated with the Nana.

"Oh, sweetheart, I can't tell you how happy I am that you took my _Sethela_ back...he loves you so much, you know," Sophie put her arm around Summer's shoulders, guiding her towards the kitchen.

"Uh...Nana, wait..." Seth's protest was lost as the Nana swept Summer farther away from him and from the front door.

"You just sit right here and let me get you some hot cider," Sophie pushed Summer towards a barstool gently and headed to the percolator, which was busy whistling and filling the kitchen with warm, aromatic steam. "Nothing like hot cider on a cold day," she prattled. Seth skid into the kitchen, a little breathlessly, and cleared his throat.

"Nana, may I see you in the hall for a moment?" he asked, his voice breaking.

"It's okay, Seth," Summer turned her face toward the open archway where he stood, and he abruptly closed his mouth. Sophie had all but ignored him as she bustled around the kitchen, and approached him with a warm mug a few seconds later.

"You two sit down and get warm," she admonished, more gentle than she had been in years. Seth slipped onto the barstool next to Summer, and let his grandmother pamper him with hot cider and fresh sugar cookies.

"Tell me everything that's been going on," she encouraged, her eyes shining.

"Well, Seth's been staying with me while my roommate is out of town, and he's been driving me _crazy_," Summer told the Nana conspiratorially. "All the time, he wants to do this, do that, go shopping, go running. I keep telling him that the holidays are for laying around and getting fat. He doesn't believe me."

Sophie laughed, and reached out to pinch Summer's cheek. "You let her lay around and get fat, do you hear me, Seth?"

Seth's hid a sly smile behind his hand. "Yes, Nana."

"What are you doing for _Chanukah_? I insist you come over!" she badgered.

"Nana, Nana...Summer and Ryan will be wallowing in their Protestant glory. We must celebrate alone," he shook his head, disappointed. Summer elbowed him in the ribs.

"Nana, Seth knows I converted," she rolled her eyes in Seth's general direction.

"Well, I'm sure glad. We couldn't let you marry into the family if you didn't."

Seth perked up. "What about Mom? You didn't make her convert."

Sophie shook her head, mournful. "Your father threatened to leave the family if we tried to make her convert. We were powerless against him."

"It's the eyebrows," Summer said seriously, taking a sip of cider.

Seth nodded emphatically in agreement. Sophie looked back and forth between them, unsure if she should laugh or scold them. Finally, Seth cracked and smiled hugely, and the Nana shook her head and ruffled his bouncy curls.

"Speaking of your mother and father, they're coming up to visit for the holidays... You must come stay with us," the Nana said again.

"I'd love to," Summer said, just as Seth said:

"We'll think about it."

He turned to stare at Summer, his mouth slack.

Sophie clapped her hands together, delighted. "Good!"

She refilled the percolator with apple juice, and then tugged Summer off of her barstool. "Come, _ahava_. I want to show you something."

"But, Nana..." Seth protested.

Summer smiled beatifically. "I'll be fine. We'll be right back," she squeezed his hand reassuringly, then allowed the Nana to pull her towards the back bedroom.

"Here," the Nana said, dropping her hand once they were in the chilly space of her guest room. Summer glided gracefully to a stop. Sophie began to dig through the cedar chest at the end of the bed.

"When my daughter got engaged to her husband, my sister and I made her _bedecken_...eh, a veil?"Sophie elaborated, in English. "I'm sure _Sethela_ has told you...Sarai left before we could give it to her. She was very unhappy with me."

Summer heard Sophie's defeated sigh, from across the room.

"But now, I again will have a daughter, a granddaughter. And for your _ayrusin_...your engagement, you shall have it." Sophie came back, handed Summer the cold, lacy cloth.

Summer felt the delicate fabric, pressing it between her fingers. Sorrow crowded the back of her throat. Sophie was watching Summer carefully, and noticed the tears glistening in her dark eyes.

"What, _calla_? What is it?"

"I can't see it," Summer admitted, choked.

"It's too dark in here? Well, let me turn on a light," Sophie began to step around her towards the lamp.

Summer reached out and grabbed Sophie's arm gently. "No, Nana. I can't see it. I'm blind."

"You're..." Sophie searched Summer's open face, small tears spilling over blushing apple cheeks. She enveloped Summer in a hug, cradling Summer against her generous bosom.

"You shall wear it anyway," Sophie whispered, running her fingers across the back of Summer's head tenderly. Sophie stepped back and carefully creased the fabric, pinning it to Summer's hair and brushing locks back until it framed her face perfectly.

From the doorway, Seth stared in wonderment at his grandmother: the delicate manner in which she treated Summer, the way that Summer let Sophie flutter around her, touching and tucking her hair gently beneath the white lace. Summer looked like an angel, haloed by the warm afternoon sunlight; the creamy ivory of the veil in stark contrast with the sable locks of her hair.

He drew his breath, out of the corner of her eye, Sophie saw her grandson spying around the doorframe.

"What do you think, _Sethela_? Beautiful, no?"

"Yes, Nana," Seth agreed softly. "Very beautiful."

"Mmmmm," the Nana continued to primp; Summer flushed a hot shade of pink.

"Nana, I'm going around the corner to get a bottle of wine for tonight...do you need anything?"

"I have everything I need," Sophie replied, and Seth backed away from the doorway, almost unwilling to tear his eyes away. He was outside on the steps of the brownstone before he was able to breathe again.

He stumbled down the street towards the corner store blindly. He picked up the first bottle of red wine he could find, blanched when the clerk charged him fifty dollars. He shelled out the necessary cash, and clutched the brown paper-wrapped bottle to his chest. He fought past surly customers through the doors, and burst back out onto the sidewalk, taking deep gulps of air. He calmed himself by walking around the block twice before arriving back on his grandmother's doorstep.

He found Summer and Sophie in the kitchen, laughing and talking as if absolutely nothing had happened. He shook his head.

* * *

To be continued...

I can't stand by  
And see you destroyed  
I can't be here  
And watch you burn up  
So does it matter  
If I give in easy?  
_So why  
Is it so hard to get by? ..._

Let's leave at sunrise  
Let's live by the ocean  
I don't mind  
If we never come home at all  
Steal the morning  
So set in motion  
_In and out of love  
And institutions  
Cause I know  
This can't last for long _

--The Doves, "Pounding"


	22. But You Make Me Feel So Pretty

Dark Night, Hold Tight, part 22

A/N: Put the kids to bed, and crank up the fan.

* * *

Summer and Seth walked back to her apartment arm-in-arm. He took her arm at the first cross-walk, ostensibly to help her cross, and then took the opportunity to just _not_ let her go. For once, Summer didn't mind. It was an old habit, oddly familiar and comfortable; like easing one's feet into the warm winter slippers that have been neglected all summer. They were unable to stare and giggle about passersby as they once had, but Summer enjoyed the inability to be tacky towards others. Sometimes frustrating, but refreshing. 

Once they arrived back at the loft, Seth helped Summer out of her coat.

"Don't forget," he warned, "the band plays again tonight and I promised them we would be there by nine."

"Sure," Summer smiled before slipping down the hall towards her room. "I'm going to take a shower and change."

"Excellent." Seth padded into the living room, frowning. If Summer was going to shower, he at least an hour and a half to kill before she'd be ready to go. He would have rolled his eyes if he weren't just grateful she was speaking to him. He decided to straighten the paintings on the wall in the living room; with all of the recent door-slamming, several were pitifully askew. Almost as soon as he had found his balance on the pillowy cushions of the sofa, he heard Summer's grunt of frustration, followed by:

"Seth…could you come and help me please?"

Sighing, he climbed down from his perch on the top of the couch, and made his way down the hall towards Summer's room. He stopped short in the doorway, staring at his love. She was clearly having trouble with the buttons down the back of her blouse, and he could immediately see why she required his assistance. Gone was the angry, defensive Summer who wouldn't even let him touch her. "Seth?" she called again, sensing his presence.

"Hi," he said softly, stepping into her room.

"Hi," she smiled back. "I need help with these buttons, please," she presented her backside to him and he approached her slowly, a bit apprehensively. She drew in a sharp breath as he reached up with trembling fingers to unbutton the button at the top of her neck. His hand brushed her nape and Summer shivered as a low coil of desire began to unwind deep in her belly. She concentrated on breathing, just breathing.

It had been so long since she'd felt this way. Since she'd allowed herself to feel this way... Outside the window, gusts of wind were howling around the eaves of the building, making Summer feel even more restless.

Seth took a deep breath, reaching for the next button, letting his finger just barely caress the bare skin where the fabric had already parted. Summer sucked in a breath and waited impatiently for him to continue.

Three more buttons were unclasped in the same manner—slowly, deliberately slowly—Seth lightly teasing her skin, lingering, longing, Summer tensing with anticipation each time his calloused fingertips brushed against her skin.

Finally he reached the last button and with an rough, uneven voice, said, "that's it."

Summer fluttered beneath his hands, and her voice cracked when she said his name.

He leaned in close over her shoulder to answer her, whispering into her ear, "yes?"

She felt powerless, compelled by something deeper than her need for distance; something more primal than her deep-seated instinct to push everyone away. She moaned and melted backwards into his solid chest, wrapping her arms around his shoulders and pulling his head closer. It was an awkward move, but Seth didn't seem to notice in the slightest. He pulled her blouse away just enough to dust kisses across her neck and shoulders, sucking at her skin, leaving delicious little bruises with his hot tongue.

She turned in his arms and reached for him; he complied, stepping into her embrace. He held her close enough to make her breathless; desperate to be one with her. He brought his mouth to hers aggressively, holding her up as he dove in again and again, making her blissfully incoherent.

"Summer," he moaned against the taut skin of her throat as she threaded her fingers through his curls. Seth moved his legs slowly, almost dragging her along with him; backed her up until they were up against her bed, pressing into the mattress, still kissing madly. Summer hoisted herself up onto the top of the bed, shedding the pesky blouse and beckoning Seth forward.

He followed immediately, straddling her hips and then pulling her up to crush her chest to his own, reveling in the feel of her after so long. His nimble fingers reached for the button of her jeans and he flicked it open easily. He pulled them down her legs, and she helped kick them off. They went sailing to the floor, joining her blouse. She lay spread beneath him now, her emerald-green bra and matching underwear hugging her curves delightfully. Seth almost fainted at the sight of her. He lovingly traced the contours of her hips and thighs with his hands, pulling her close to kiss her again. She groaned into his mouth, falling backwards limply when he began to rub his fingers across her painfully aroused nipples. He unlatched her bra for better access and she arched into his touch.

It had been so long since she'd been touched by anyone in any way, much less Seth, her Seth, who was the only man she would ever love. He had just about perfected the art of making love to her nipples with his artist's hands when he stepped it up a notch and closed his hot mouth around her right breast.

A cracked sob of pleasure left her throat and Seth smiled into the skin he was in the process of demoralizing. After several careful minutes of laving each nipple with the loving care he felt they both deserved, his nervous fingers reached for the hem of her panties.

"Ahhhh," Summer was gasping for breath, the sensations rioting across her flesh, making her incapable of rational thought. She lifted her hips to assist him in the removal of her clothing and shuddered as he gently spread her legs. His first, tentative touch was electric, and Summer almost came on the spot. She felt the bed shift as Seth adjusted his position.

When his tongue unexpectedly touched her clit she practically screamed in delicious agony, and her fingers clenched involuntarily against his scalp.

"Easy!" he yelped, and Summer let out a nervous, giddy giggle. "Easy," he whispered again, this time against the silken skin of her inner thigh. She obligingly released him, curling her fingers in the tangle of covers underneath her. Seth began again, delicately licking across her folds, dipping in with his tongue to arouse her like no one else ever had, or ever would.

She'd taught him well, he still knew all of her favorite tricks, and when he started that old familiar pattern of lick, flutter, suck, she began bucking her hips uncontrollably.

"Come for me," Seth urged, and Summer nodded in response, wanton. Her cheeks were flushed a deep pink, and Seth couldn't help but fall madly in love with her all over again. When his fingers gently pushed into her body, Summer cried out in abandonment and came hard, clenching around his hand tightly. She rode the wave of her ecstasy until she was exhausted, and then threw her head back to gasp for breath. Seth waited until her breathing had slowed somewhat, and then removed his fingers, gently kissing her thighs and belly.

"You're so beautiful," he murmured, his lips brushing her heated, sweat-slicked skin. "You smell so good, I can't stand it. I want you so badly."

Summer, for the first time since she'd called Seth to her room, was flooded with guilt and shame. Before she could even protest, both she and Seth were startled by frantic pounding against the front door. Seth shushed her, and instructed her to remain in her room. He closed her bedroom door behind him, and hurried to the foyer, unnerved by the insistent knocking. Looking in the peephole provided a fish-eye view of Ryan, who was raising his fist for another assault against the dark cherry wood. Seth flung the door open, out of breath.

Ryan stepped back, stared at Seth's disheveled appearance; then grinned, a little lecherously.

"Dude, what the hell?"

Ryan sobered quickly. "Your uncle called... Nana collapsed."

"No way, dude," Seth was shaking his head. "We were just over there, like...an hour ago."

"I've been trying your phone for thirty minutes, at least. That's why I came over here," Ryan held up his own cell phone, as if that were all the evidence he would ever need.

Seth fumbled. "I must have turned it off...left it in my coat..." he trailed off.

"Well, they took her to the hospital, so get Summer and we'll go down there together."

Seth scratched the back of his head... "Um, I'm not sure Summer will want to come..." he wasn't even able to finish before a fully-clothed and styled Summer gracefully glided to a stop at his side.

"Of course I want to go," she insisted, and the way she almost-glanced at Ryan made him nervous. He shifted from his left foot to his right.

"Well, get your coat, then," he instructed gruffly.

Summer went around Seth's backside and he forced himself to concentrate long enough to assist her.

The ride to the hospital was uncomfortably silent. Ryan stared out the window at passing buildings; Seth sat with his head between his knees, trying to remain calm; and Summer meditated despite the loud crackle coming from the CB radio in the front seat of the cab. Seth was kicking himself. Not only had he taken advantage of Summer, but the sly look on Ryan's face as he had opened the door told Seth that he'd known exactly what they'd been up to. As if his Nana's scrutiny weren't enough.

Summer cringed when she thought about how she must smell. _Good call_, she congratulated herself mockingly. _Have total slutty sex with Cohen and then rush to the hospital to see his ailing grandmother without even taking a shower._ She probably reeked of sex. At least she hadn't been drinking.

Ryan, ever perceptive to the shifting moods and manners of those around him, felt the guilt and heartache pulsing in the small space like a sonar. It was like being with Marissa all over again; the best and worst years of his life, and all because of her.

Seth met his cousins Lauren and Esther in the parking lot of the hospital, each dragging a bedraggled child with them.

"How is she?"

Esther adjusted her ponytail, glanced at Ryan and Summer. "She's stable. They think she had a stroke, but she hasn't woken up, so they say they can't be sure."

Lauren wrapped Seth in a long hug. "How are you, kiddo?"

"I'm good. Good. This is my brother Ryan, and Summer...my...well, you remember Summer."

"Yes, of course," Lauren replied graciously. "This is Emma," she stooped to pick up the little girl that was clinging to her hand like a lifeline. "And Katie," she gestured to the child that was holding on to Esther. "Dan's been in Boston all week...I didn't have anyone to watch the children."

"I'll babysit."

All four Cohens turned to Summer, surprised.

Lauren looked dubious. "Are you sure?"

"Sure. I lost my sight a couple of years ago in an accident...but as long as I can keep them at my house, I should be able to manage."

Lauren glanced at Esther. "Well, that would be fine, Summer. They've both been sick, so they'll be pretty easy to handle. They will probably sleep most of the time."

"I'll take Summer and the girls home, if you want to go back in," Ryan offered.

"That would be great," Esther sighed gratefully, relinquishing Katie into Ryan's waiting arms.

Summer reached her hands out for Emma, and Lauren handed her over, pausing to kiss her youngest daughter on the forehead. Seth beamed with pride as Summer tucked Emma's downy head under her chin.

Ryan placed his hand at the small of Summer's back, and guided her towards a waiting taxi. He turned to Seth at the last second, "I'll be back soon."

Seth waved and jogged to catch up with Lauren and Esther, who had turned back towards the formidable gray building. Summer and Ryan didn't speak on the ride back to the apartment. Summer cradled Emma in her arms, and Ryan followed her easily, guiding her towards the elevator, and then towards the front door of her apartment. Both girls were sleeping, Ryan placed Katie on one end of the couch, covered her with a blanket, and placed the decorative pillows so as to prevent her from rolling off the sofa in her sleep. He took Emma from Summer's arms and repeated the procedure. After he was done, he came to Summer and carefully hugged her. After a stiff moment of hesitation, she hugged him back, and he kissed her forehead.

"I've programmed my number into your phone, call me if you need anything."

Summer nodded, "I will." She waited for Ryan to leave, then bent over both girls on the sofa to make sure they were both still asleep and breathing deeply. Satisfied that they could be left for a few minutes, she escaped back to her bedroom and shed her clothing.

Feeling unsettled, and unsure of where she stood with Seth, Summer barricaded herself in the bathroom and pulled the shower curtain around the tub as if she could hide away there forever. She turned the water on, hotter than she would have wanted had she been thinking straight. She stood there, allowing the water to beat against the skin of her back mercilessly.

What would he expect from her now that she'd allowed herself to be carried away by foolish emotions? And how could she deny it to him after relinquishing it once already? Her heart ached at the thought of him... shy, earnest Seth, who so obviously wanted nothing more than to please her. He didn't know what he was trying to offer her. It would be so easy to just forget, to ignore her fears and fall in love with Seth again.

But more frightening than the idea that she was just a temporary novelty was the notion that she would look up at thirty three and be so miserable that she felt the desire to drown herself in a swimming pool, or worse. What if she chose Seth because of obvious lack of options, and made them both miserable? What kind of a life would that be? For either of them?

Mindful of the sleeping children in the next room, Summer quickly finished showering and towel-dried her wet hair. She slipped into a clean pair of sweats and found the book she had been reading. Curling up on the couch between the two sleepy children, Summer found that she was rather drowsy herself. She pulled the sea-blue chenille throw from the back of the sofa and draped it across her legs. She would doze, just for a while.

Hours later, when Seth finally returned from the hospital, he found all three girls cuddled together on the couch, fast asleep, and he smiled.

* * *

To Be Continued... 


	23. One Day I Slowly Floated Away

Dark Night, Hold Tight, part 23

A/N: If you're impressed that I wrote a scene involving Marissa, you should be, considering that every time I see Mischa Barton I pray that someone will run over her emaciated ass with a Mack truck. Enjoy.

* * *

Summer was awake at seven the following morning. Lauren must have come to get the girls during the night, because she was alone, and the pillows and throw blankets were stacked neatly on the end of the couch. She padded down the hall towards her bedroom and heard Seth's quiet snores through the door. She curled up on her own bed to sleep off the tired ache that was crowding the muscles of her neck and back. 

When she woke up for the second time that morning, it was after noon, and music was softly playing from across the hall. Summer grimaced. She didn't want to confront Seth, but she had to make it clear that they could not repeat what had happened the night before.

Maybe the easiest thing to do would be to ask him to leave...

But the question was, would he? Summer sincerely doubted it. Sighing heavily, she ran a quick hand over her hip to make sure she wasn't accidentally revealing too much skin. She crossed the hall and knocked on the door to the guest room, then pushed it open before he could answer.

"Seth, I want you to go," she stood in the doorway to his room, fidgeting as he looked up at her.

"Yeah?" Seth put down the book he'd been engrossed in, "You need something?"

"I need you to leave," Summer clarified. "I know Anna paid you to stay with me, but I'll write you a check for all of it. I just want you to go."

Seth frowned. "Summer…Anna didn't pay me anything."

"What!"

"I thought she told you. She tried," Seth went on, "but I wouldn't take it. I just wanted to be close to you, Summer, again. It's always been you," he finished quietly, swinging his legs off the bed, and approaching her.

"See, Cohen…" Summer's face flushed hotly. "You _do_ this, and it makes me _crazy_. You say all of these sweet things, and you gave me the best orgasm of my life, but in the end, you're just going to leave, so you might as well just do it now."

Though she couldn't see him, Summer felt Seth tense. He remained silent for several long seconds, counting to ten. When he spoke again, he sounded almost defeated, which only reaffirmed Summer's doubt.

"Summer, I know this is hard for you," his voice broke, and he swallowed, "...but I can't just leave you here by yourself. If...if it would make you feel safer, we can, uh, call a truce. No more kissing…or touching. Just—we'll just keep our hands to ourselves."

"That's what we did the last time, and look what happened!"

Now that she'd thrown down the gauntlet, he was quick to pick it up. "Hey, that last time was all you, babe," Seth threw up his hands to relinquish culpability.

"Me?" Summer asked defensively. "Who started kissing my neck? Who took off my shirt?"

"Uh, because you _asked_ me to," Seth retorted. Summer glared. "Not that I didn't _want_ to," he backpedaled. "Because I did. Very much. I'm just pointing out that _you_ started it."

"It doesn't matter who started it!" Summer snapped irritably. Seth grinned triumphantly.

"You're right," he murmured, reaching out to place a hand on her hip and pulling her close. "I'm just glad it happened."

"Now, Cohen, stop that!" Summer smiled despite herself. Typically, his moratorium on touching had lasted all of thirty seconds. He knew he could get away with anything when he wanted to be charming, and he used it to his full advantage. "Hands to yourself!"

"Okay," he agreed, nuzzling her ear. "I'll keep my hands to myself. You, however," nip, "can put your hands where ever you'd like."

Summer snorted. "Don't start with me." She could feel him smiling against the tender skin of her neck. He was like a little boy, always testing the limits, pushing people's buttons. It was so like him to promise not to kiss her, and then turn around in the very next breath and try to get a little action. She would have been irritated if it didn't make her feel so deliciously warm and dizzy. She come into his room determined to put her foot down and less than five minutes later she had melted like a marshmallow over his flame.

From the foyer, the house phone trilled loudly. Summer worried her bottom lip with her teeth. "I better go get that," she said wistfully, pulling away. "Could be Anna."

Seth watched her go, her saucy bottom swaying back and forth as she walked away. He brought a fist up to his mouth and sank his teeth into the bare skin.

"Hello?"

"Sum, it's me," Marissa said cheerfully.

"Hey Coop," Summer said loudly, turning back towards the hall, as if she were glancing at Seth. "What's going on?"

She could practically hear Marissa rolling her eyes. "Well, my mom and Caitlyn came up to spend the weekend here, so it's getting kind of crowded."

"Oh yeah...did the new husband come?"

"Bob? No, he mysteriously had some business to take care of in San Fransisco. He and I don't really make a secret of the lack of love between us."

"Right there with you, sister," Summer smirked. "I'd be surprised if my stepmonster even knew my name." Summer moved silently towards the patio, and closed the door shut behind her.

"So how's it going with Seth?" Ahh, the inevitable.

"Okay."

"_Okay_? You haven't seen him in four years, Sum...surely you have more to say than 'okay.'"

"First, you know how much I _detest_ that nickname. Second..." she had to tell someone, it might as well be Marissa, "...we had sex."

"Shut up!"

"Well, we sort of had sex."

Marissa scoffed.

"He went down on me," Summer grudgingly elaborated.

Marissa hmmmmed. "Was it good?"

"It was incredible," she gushed. "The man _knows_ how to use his tongue."

"Ewww, Summer. He's like my, nephew."

"Fine," Summer huffed, then lowered her voice. "But now I don't know what to do."

"Um, have fun?" Marissa suggested.

"It's not that easy," Summer rolled her eyes in annoyance.

"Sure it is," Marissa replied easily. "He's going to be there...what? Another week? Make the most of it."

"Wow, should I save the lap dance and the floor show for the end of the week, or should I go for the gold right from the start?"

"Seriously, Sum, enjoy yourself. He's going to be there anyway...and you know he doesn't have herpes or anything. You might as well."

"You're a totally slutty influence on me," Summer reclined on the chaise and lolled her head back.

"Someone needs to be," Marissa grumbled. "I think Anna wants to put you in a convent until you shrivel up and die."

Summer laughed. "She's all about the looking, you're all about the leaping."

"Speaking of looking, have you seen Ryan lately?"

The remainder of the conversation revolved around Ryan and his washboard abs, and finally dwindled down to both girls struggling to find something to talk about. With a hasty excuse about having some laundry to do, Summer hung up.

Seth must have been watching from the living room window, because seconds later, he joined her on the patio.

"Marissa?" he prodded needlessly.

"Yeah."

"How many brain cells do you think you lost?"

"Shut up, Cohen, she's not _that_ dumb."

"And hell is just a sauna," he quipped, quoting one of her favorite movies.

Summer laughed, and then shivered when Seth pressed a cool glass into her palm.

"Iced tea," he said, then flopped down on the lounge chair next to her.

"When you talked to Anna did she tell you when she was coming home?"

Seth shook his head, then said, "no." He smiled widely. "Why? Are you bored with me already?"

Summer remained silent, her face pinched. Seth squinted in the afternoon sunlight. After a moment, he found the courage to goad her.

"What are you so afraid of, anyway?"

"You wouldn't understand."

"Summer, give me a little credit."

She sighed, dramatically. "Anna's getting married in like, three months."

Seth frowned for a moment, and then realization dawned. "And you don't know what you're going to do," he stated.

"I can't impose on her any more than I already have."

"You're not imposing on her," Seth protested. "Anna loves living with you."

"Yeah, but not when she gets married. Like, ew. And when she has a baby…" Summer trailed off.

Seth laughed, "I don't think Anna's going to rush right out and get pregnant any time soon."

"You know what I mean," Summer retorted. "She won't have time for a family and to babysit me, too."

Seth rolled his eyes. "No one babysits you, Summer."

"What do you think you're doing here?" she countered sharply. Seth didn't answer her. Instead he crawled from his lounger to hers.

"I'm here to pleasure you," he said, his voice husky.

Summer burst out laughing. "You've got balls, I'll give you that."

Seth carefully lowered himself on top of her body, grinding their crotches together lewdly. Summer felt her tensed muscles go weak and her head pressed against the pillowed head rest. Seth was kissing her throat.

"What happened to 'hands to ourselves'?" she asked coyly.

"They got bored by themselves. They want yours to come out and play," he murmured, finding her fingers with his own and lacing them together.

After a few minutes of serious necking, Summer pulled back.

"I want to go see Nana this afternoon," she told him seriously.

"You're thinking about my _Nana_ right now?"

"Seth," she warned.

"We'll go whenever you want," he relented. He shifted his arm to check his watch. "It is now one pm. We can go at three and relieve Esther. My dad is flying tomorrow morning."

"Where will he stay?"

"Probably at the apartment with Ryan. Max and Sarah are staying at Nana's."

"Are Sarai and Nana going to reconcile?"

"I sure hope so," Seth kissed Summer's forehead. "She always gave the best presents are Hannukah."

"Leave it to you to be thinking about presents in all of this," Summer sighed, but Seth knew she wasn't really annoyed. He began kissing her fingertips.

"Let's go inside, I'm cold," he whispered. Summer didn't answer. "Aren't you?" he asked.

Summer rubbed his bicep thoughtfully. "Not anymore."

* * *

"Would you get the hell out of here?" Summer heard the Nana's cranky voice from all the way down the hall. A frightened nurse exited the room, pressing a hand to her forehead. Her green scrubs looked entirely too big on her waifish frame. 

"Ahhh, the Nana's in a bad mood. What a shocker," Seth said drolly.

Summer elbowed him in the ribs. "You shut up. I love your Nana."

"I love my Nana too, but you can't deny...she's a bitch," he lowered his voice as they approached her door. Seth held it open for Summer, then guided her through with a hand at the small of her back.

"There he is, my favorite grandson," Nana crowed when she saw the pair. Seth poked Summer back, as if to say '_I told you so_.'

"Nana, can we get you anything?" He asked politely. "Coffee? Water? Valium salt lick?" Summer sighed as if she were disappointed in his utter lack of decorum.

"I could use a doctor who knows what in the hell they're talking about!" the Nana snorted.

"Have you talked with Dad? He's coming tomorrow. He wants you to see a specialist."

"I have specialists. I have specialists for everything that could possibly be wrong with me, and none of them can tell me _anything_."

"Nana," Summer said softly, moving gracefully to the chair that was beside her bed. She felt around for it discretely, then sank into it and pulled the Nana's hand into her lap. "What did they say about your stroke?"

The Nana waved her concerns away with her free hand. "Nothing, nothing. It was minor. They said I might have some problems with my facial muscles drooping, but as you can see, I'm fit as a fiddle."

"Good," Summer brought Nana's clammy hand to her face and rubbed her cheek against the paper-thin skin on the back of the older woman's hand.

"What about you? What have you two been doing?"

"Ahhh," Seth blushed bright red and stammered.

"Well, we went for coffee after dinner last night," Summer cut in smoothly. "And Seth had his phone turned off so Ryan had to come and get us when they brought you to the hospital. I watched Katie and Emma so Lauren and Esther and Seth could be here with you."

"You're such an angel," the Nana beamed.

Seth dropped into the chair against the far wall and watched his Nana and Summer talk easily. Summer had been wrong, when she'd said that Nana was 'crazy for her Sethela.' Like Seth, Nana was crazy for Summer, though admittedly, crazy for her in a very different way. Summer had the Nana wrapped around her little finger, and she knew how to play the old lady like a Stradivarius. Much like Seth had when he'd been younger, more impish.

At some point, he dozed off, for when he woke up, the room was quiet and dusk was falling.

"Summer?" he whispered.

"Hmmm?" her dark eyes snapped open and flashed towards him.

"Is Nana asleep?"

"Yes, I think so," Summer gently disengaged her hand from where it was still clasped with Nana's.

"We should go," he nodded his head towards the door. Striding over to his grandmother, he kissed her gently on the forehead, and then reached for Summer's hand. They left her room, meeting Lauren on her way in.

Seth hailed a cab and Summer curled up under his arm for the ride home.

"Seth?" she asked quietly, once they were safely encapsulated in the back seat, warm. She rubbed her cheek against the worn green cotton of his polo tee and the rougher fabric of his corduroy coat.

"Yes?" he murmured against the silky strands of her hair.

"Nana's going to be okay, right?"

"Of course she is," he rubbed a comforting hand down her back. "It was just a minor stroke. A stroklet. A strokette. She's going home tomorrow."

"I'm scared."

"Why? She's going to be fine."

"Not just about the Nana," Summer confessed. "About everything."

"Summer, I'll never let anything happen to you," Seth whispered fiercely, pulling her closer to his chest.

She wanted to believe him, so badly.

As she sat there, cuddled under his arm, she abruptly decided to stop fighting him. She wanted to simplify things down as much as possible. So what if he left? Would she be any more heartbroken if they didn't fool around while he was there? Probably not.

She would take Marissa's advice. She and Seth would kiss, and touch, and even make love, and she would enjoy it while she could. And unlike the last time, she would be able to appreciate for what it was: the last time.

Her heart felt lighter almost immediately—lighter than it had been in months—years, even.

When they got back to the apartment, she led him back to her bedroom, and pushed his coat back off his shoulders. He got the hint, and helped her remove their clothing in record time. He almost tripped over his own feet in an attempt to get them over to the bed.

She had wondered about this for so long... Would he be the same as she had remembered? Had he had many other lovers since her? Would going to bed with him be the same as she remembered it? In all the good ways, she was delighted to find, it was. He still took his time, kissing and touching her exactly where she needed it the most. He was careful not to crush him underneath her, the muscles of his chest were stronger, more toned. As he approached climax, he still whispered her name over and over like a mantra, like a prayer.

Pleasure blossomed in Summer's body like a glass being over-filled with water, spilling over the rim and bleeding into the tablecloth below. The sheets beneath them soaked up their sweat and Summer's tears as they brought each other to new heights. They continued on far into the night, each unable to release the other, to put finality to the events that had been started so long before.

Seth was finally asleep beside her when Summer pressed her lips against the skin of his back and very softly told him that she loved him.

To be Continued...


	24. I Must Close My Eyes and Hide My Face

Dark Night, Hold Tight, part 24

A/N: Thank you, darling ducklings, for all of the excessively kind reviews. They are so special, and mean more to me than I could ever say. Some of you review so faithfully, and I smile whenever I see your names in my inbox. Thank you...

* * *

Summer woke to the too-chipper tone of her cell phone; it was the theme song to _21 Jump Street_, which Seth had programmed her phone to play whenever he called her. She reached out an exploratory hand to the sheets beside her, they were cold, he'd been gone awhile. 

"Hello?" she said groggily.

"Hello sunshine," he lowered his voice intimately. "I hated to leave you looking so sexy and bereft this morning, but I had to come in to work for a while."

"Bereft?"

"Very bereft. I'll have to fix that just as soon as I get home."

Summer bit back a smile. "When do you think you'll be back?"

"Three thirty, four at the latest," he swore. "I'm going to swing by Nana's and take her some flowers, but that won't take long."

"Mmm, okay, I'll be here." She hung up and stretched her deliciously sore muscles. Seth had given her quite a workout.

When they had been lovers in high school, they'd only been able to spend a handful of nights together actually sleeping in the same bed. In college, Summer found that Seth was a selfish sleeper, he liked to take up more than his fair share of the mattress, he hogged the covers, and he had a charmingly irritating habit of wrapping himself around whatever—or whomever—happened to be in the bed with him. She'd gotten used to waking up with him practically on top of her, his arms or legs—or sometimes both—curled around her body like he was afraid of drowning and she was the only thing saving him from strangulation by sheeting.

He hadn't changed. She'd woken up three different times during the night to push him back to his side of the bed, only to find him snuggled up to her shortly after. It had been odd to sleep in a bed with someone again, after being alone for so long. Summer wasn't sure she liked it.

_Oh, who was she kidding?_ She loved it. She loved waking up to Seth's shallow breathing against her shoulder, his fingers wrapped around hers. She loved half-asleep kisses, followed by drowsy sex and an aching climax.

Summer dragged herself out of bed and into rose-scented bathwater, letting the bubbles pile up around her in the large garden tub. She had put on her favorite CD, Arcade Fire, and was humming along happily. She wanted to think that seducing Seth was a big mistake and that she needed to mull over it painstakingly, but she just couldn't bring herself to do it. She felt like shouting from the rooftops. She found she couldn't regret a single second of it.

When the CD finally ended, the water was tepid, and Summer got out and wrapped herself in her warm terrycloth bathrobe. Slipping down the hall towards the kitchen, she fixed breakfast, and then ate in front of the TV while she listened to the morning news. Nothing earth-shattering had occurred the night before in their dark and dirty city; nothing of course but _hot sex with Seth_. Summer suppressed a giddy giggle and reminded herself about being a grownup.

She went about her routine, doing her pilates, reading and thinking about calling Anna. Summer didn't want to bother her, but she felt like she was keeping something from Anna by not calling her to tell her what had happened. At the same time, she wasn't even sure she _should_ tell Anna.

Seth was home by two forty five; she was out on the patio when she heard him come through the front door and shed his jacket over the back of the sofa. He joined her, leaning over to administer a thorough kiss before collapsing onto the chaise next to hers.

"Did you go by your grandmother's?"Summer inquired politely, turning the page in her book.

"I called this afternoon and Dad was already there. He wants us both to come over later."

"When?"

"Six?" Seth guessed.

"I'm sorry, was that a question?"

"Six," he repeated, certain. He released a long sigh, relaxed against the cushions. "What are you reading?" he quirked an eyebrow curiously.

"Penthouse Letters," Summer replied casually.

Seth choked.

"Relax, Cohen. I'm reading Franny and Zooey."

"You know, I never liked Salinger," he frowned.

"I know."

"They made us read Raise the Roofbeams, Carpenter when I was in college and I loathed the experience from beginning to end."

"Salinger's not for everyone."

"He's just so damned pretentious."

"He has his moments."

"...so are we going to fuck, or what?"

Summer dropped her book, "God, I thought you'd never ask." She reached over and pulled him to her by his shirt collar, devouring his mouth. He cupped her bottom in his palms and then hoisted her up, encouraging her to wrap her legs around his waist. She complied.

An hour later Seth was staring at the ceiling contemplating a sandwich when the phone rang. Summer ignored it. He rolled over onto his side to face her, propping his head up on his hand, elbow bent.

"Summer, I've been thinking," he began, his palm starting to sweat.

"Hmmm?" Summer responded absent-mindedly, a happy smile gracing her full mouth. She stretched her arms above her head languidly.

"You know how we talked last night about Anna?"

Summer rolled over towards him. "Yeah? What about it?" Her voice took on a strange quality, a little choked, a little bit of something else that he couldn't place.

"Well I've been thinking about it."

"Cohen," her voice wavered.

"I want you to move in with me. With us. With me and Ryan."

Summer closed her eyes, struggling with the urge to lash out at him for being the same old impulsive Seth Cohen that he'd always been. Didn't he know that he couldn't keep getting her hopes up? Didn't he know that he couldn't keep breaking her heart? "You don't know what you're saying."

"Yes, I do. I've thought about this."

"You've thought about it a whole 18 hours? Wow!" she snarked.

"Summer, listen," Seth lowered his voice in that intimate way she had always loved, the alternately rough- and smooth-sounding lilt of his voice, it made her think of coziness and warmth. "Ry and I, we've talked about it. We've talked about getting a bigger apartment uptown, something on the bottom floor so that you could come and go as you pleased. And we would have a great time together…again," he argued passionately.

Summer's dark eyes glittered with tears. "What about when _you_ find someone, Seth?" She bit her bottom lip. "What happens when _you_ want to get married?"

Seth drank in the sight of her, so darkly beautiful, so tragic. He wanted so badly to tell her that he already wanted to get married, that he'd been ready for years. "That will never happen, Summer. It's always been you," he said softly, sitting up next to her in bed.

"I can't take that freedom away from you. I won't," Summer sat up also, resolved and defiant, she pulled the sheet up under her breasts modestly.

"Summer, have you been with anyone since we broke up?" Seth asked suddenly.

She turned on him, angry and embarrassed. "You know I haven't!"

"Neither have I," Seth said immediately.

Summer's mouth dropped open in surprise, and her shoulders followed. "I'm sorry, Cohen."

"I'm not. I wanted the chance to fight for you," he admitted, feeling a little stupid as he did so. "It took me so long to 'get over you,'" Seth gestured with air-quotes, more for his own benefit than for hers. "But it never really happened. And then when I saw you again…"

"I don't think you can decide on a whim that you want to take on a blind...roommate," she stumbled, unable to find a better word. "I can't move in with you."

"Awww," Seth pulled her close, pressed his lips against her forehead, whispering against her temple, teasing. "Where's that selfish girl I fell in love with? The one that sabotaged every date I ever had with Anna, because if you couldn't have me, no one was going to?"

"You're a fine one to talk, you wreaked just as much havoc for me and Zach."

"We both knew," Seth said softly.

"Seth, I have to talk to Anna. This...between you and me...it's gotten out of control, and only Anna can ground me. No matter what our problems, or how crazy everything seems...Anna and I can always make sense of things."

"I understand," Seth wrapped his arms around his bent knees.

Summer snorted. "No you don't. You're the most spontaneous person I know. You don't think a damn thing out, do you?"

"No," Seth admitted, laughing. "But I know that I want you. I know that I want you to live with us," he corrected.

"What does Ryan think about that, really?" Summer asked sharply.

"He'll learn to love it."

"Have you even talked to him?" she rolled her eyes.

"Yes," Seth answered so innocently that Summer knew he was lying.

"You're such a jackass, Cohen, I swear," she swung her legs off the side of the bed, taking his bedsheet with her as she stood.

"Where are you going?" he whined.

"To take a bath," she traipsed into the adjoining bathroom and started the water.

"Can I come?" Seth asked coyly.

"No."

She could practically hear him pouting.

"Well, okay, but you have to sit on the mat," she relented.

Seth followed her like a happy puppy, leaning his back against the side of the tub, his bare ass against the plush bathmat as she sank down in the soapy water.

"Will you wash my back for me?"

"No, lazy, I won't."

Summer began to lather a loofah and smacked him on the head with it before stretching her arm over her head and scrubbing her neck and shoulders.

Seth picked at the strands of the carpet beneath him.

"How did you and Anna get so close, anyway? Didn't you hate each other?"

"No...we just thought the other one was slutty."

"Oh, and that's _so_ different," Seth replied dryly.

"It is different. She wanted you, I wanted you, I got you, she left, she got over it. When...when Marissa called her, she came back to Newport without even knowing what had happened to me."

"And you just let her bring you back here," he filled in.

"I didn't have a choice. She didn't let me have a choice," she corrected, quietly.

"Well, it seems like you have her wrapped around your little finger now."

"Yeah."

"Well?"

"Well, what?"

"Well, what changed?"

"Nothing _changed_. Okay, that's not exactly true," Summer stopped, pressing her fingers into her eyelids as if she were fighting off a headache.

"What...what I like about you and me, Cohen, is that...I like when you bully me," Summer admitted, haltingly. "I like that you don't take any crap. You treat me...the way Anna used to," she ducked her head, a little bashfully.

"The way Anna _used to_?" Seth clarified, his eyebrows rising.

"The way Anna used to," Summer sighed, "before she fell in love with me."

"_Before she who now_?"

"You heard me," Summer retorted, but without the usual accompanying zing.

Seth took a deep breath, tried to approach the admission with logic instead of jealousy. Jealousy or the urge to immediately grab a video camera. "You think Anna approaches you differently now because she's in love with you?"

"Kind of," Summer's nervous fingers played with the loofah in her hand.

"Do you love her back?" Seth asked after a moment.

"I don't know," Summer huffed, dropping the sponge into the bathwater. "I don't know."

Seth brought his hand up to his mouth and 'hmmm'ed behind it.

"So Anna lets up on you because she loves you," _and I don't let up on you because I love you. Don't you see the difference? _

"Yes," Summer answered.

"Yes, you see the difference?" Seth asked, startled.

Summer frowned. "Huh?"

"Nevermind. You were saying?"

"Yes, I love her...just not that way," Summer elaborated. "It's complicated. Nothing is simple anymore."

"I see," Seth answered slowly. They were treading dangerous, slippery ground now.

"So, you don't want to move in with us because you're afraid you won't have it so good anymore?" Seth asked.

"No, that's not it," Summer denied quickly. "I just don't want to hurt her."

Seth snorted. "God, this is a comedy of errors if I've ever heard one. Anna wants to put off her wedding because she's so afraid of what will happen to you, that you'll be hurt. Meanwhile, you think Anna's in love with you, and you don't want to let her get married because that would mean you would have to move out, and that might hurt her. And poor Kurt doesn't know what in the hell is going on, because neither of you will tell him a damn thing!"

"That about sums it up," Summer agreed dismally.

"Fucking unbelievable," Seth stood up and left the bathroom without another word.

Summer found him in the kitchen a few minutes later making a fresh pot of coffee. It was as if they'd never argued.

"You want me to pour you a cup?" he asked.

"Sure," she sank down into her usual chair at the kitchen table.

"I'm sorry, Cohen...I didn't mean to upset you, earlier...talking about Anna."

"You didn't," he leaned up against the kitchen cabinet, facing her. "I just think you're both fucked up," he said honestly.

"That we are," Summer nodded. Seth stared at her thoughtfully.

Summer noticed the wall clock was no longer ticking. She probably needed to change the batteries. The ice machine dumped cubes into the tray, it's crystalline clatter intensifying her headache.

"Well, hey, Ryan is going to be at The Nana's later tonight—why don't we talk to him about it then?"

"You seriously haven't even asked him yet?"

Seth fidgeted. "Ryan won't care, he's in school so he's gone all the time anyway."

"It can't hurt to talk to him," Summer finally said, grudgingly. Ryan would never go for it. He was Seth's balance the way Anna was Summer's. He would never let Seth leap into something like this.

"That's all I ask," Seth agreed, laying a kiss on the top of her head. "I'm going to go get dressed." He whistled as he left the room.

Summer put her chin in her hand and sighed.

* * *

To be continued... 


	25. I am the One Who is Gone

Dark Night, Hold Tight, part 25

A/N: I could never possibly individually thank all of you who review, but Wherefore L'Amour, for you to notice and bea, thank you my darlings for leaving such thoughtful reviews, I always love to see what you have to say. Also, Shirl, where are you:(

Also, be sure and check out my new story, _Almost Lost and Almost Home_. Danke.

* * *

"Hello?" 

"Hey," Anna's crisp voice came across the line and made Summer's busy heart flutter. The traffic outside on this gloomy day was almost silent, and it was giving Summer an itch.

"Hey, how are you holding up?"

"I'm fine, really. I wish you were here," Anna admitted wistfully. On her end of the line, she was distracting herself by curling the cord around her fingers, slowly cutting off circulation to the tips before unraveling the cord just before it became painful.

"Me too," Summer replied quietly. "It's not too late to fly me out there to be with you..."

"Actually, it is," Anna cleared her throat. "We're coming home tomorrow."

Summer's stomach twisted into a knot, and she remained silent so long that Anna tentatively said, "hello? Summer, are you still there?"

"I'm here," Summer's bruised voice answered her.

"Is everything okay there?" Anna inquired, her tone delicate. "Are you and Seth getting along?"

"Absolutely. Don't worry about us."

"I'm not," Anna lied. She shut the door to her bedroom. "Summer, there's something I need to talk with you about when I get home. About me and Kurt."

"I know. I need to talk to you, too."

Anna released a deep sigh, feeling lighter already. "Our flight comes in at ten, so I should be home around noon."

"Seth will be at work," Summer reminded her idly, her mind racing.

"I'm going to send Kurt home in his own cab, so it will be just us," Anna's voice hitched.

"Okay. I can't wait for you to be home again," Summer said.

"Me too," Anna whispered. "I love you."

"I love you too...'bye."

Summer hung up, pacing around the bedroom. Seth was at work, and she had been restless all morning. Deciding to be productive, she purposefully strode into the kitchen and felt beneath the sink for the cleaning caddy. Taking it back to her bathroom, she put on the bright yellow rubber gloves and began methodically cleaning every inch of the bathtub and shower.

She scrubbed down all three bathrooms from top to bottom, even cleaning the mirrors, though she always left streaks that Anna had to go back over later. She tried to script out what she was going to say to Anna, how she was going to explain her fall from grace on the Seth front; but everything she came up with sounded like an excuse for infidelity. Which was ridiculous. Wasn't it? Anna was her friend, her dearest friend, her confidante.

Moreover, how could she confess to Anna how terrified she was about the idea of moving out, living on her own? Sure, Anna would still be close—Summer felt instinctively that neither would have it any other way—but they wouldn't be together, it wouldn't be the same. And that's what scared Summer most of all. Not _loving_ Seth; not even having Seth _leave_ her. All of that had been done once before, with no small amount of heartache and blinding pain. But the most frightening thing of all was the thing that they had _the most_ control over at this stage in the game: change.

* * *

"C'mon buddy...We didn't even get a chance even once to talk last night. I took off the whole day just for Seth/Ryan time," Seth complained as he laid on Ryan's unmade bed, watching Ryan bustle around the room getting ready for work from the vantage point of being upside-down. The blood was draining to his head and starting to make him feel a little dizzy. 

"Don't you mean Summer/Seth/Ryan time?" Ryan asked, with what Seth believed to be a hint of disdain.

"Ryyyaaaaaaaaa..."

"So they didn't need you at the paper, huh?"

"Not at all," Seth sighed, overly dramatic per usual. He raised his legs straight up in the air for emphasis. "Missing one day of work will not kill you. Besides, I need to ask you something important."

"Seth, the last time you told me you wanted to talk about something important, we spent twenty minutes arguing over who would win the fight between Daredevil and Batman."

"They're both just men, Ryan. Just men."

Ryan rolled his eyes. "Why would they even fight in the first place? They both had a tragic incident in their lives that made them dark, but ultimately they both redeem themselves. They both fight for the forces of good... you know what? This is ridiculous." Ryan jerked his jacket off of the back of his desk chair and made for the door.

"I had sex with Summer," Seth blurted, rolling over and sitting up.

Ryan abruptly halted.

"I want to know if she can move in with us," Seth continued quickly.

Ryan closed his eyes. "You already asked her, didn't you?"

"Sort of," Seth cringed, waiting for the onslaught.

Ryan threw his jacket on the ground in frustration. "You're just so goddamn impulsive. Did you ever think about who was going to take care of her? Who's going to be with her here during the day? What about when she needs..."

"I'm going to marry her, Ryan," Seth said suddenly, seriously.

The blood drained from Ryan's face, an odd mirror to Seth's face only moments before.

"You've asked her?"

"Not yet, but I'm going to. It was meant to be, Ry. Meeting her again, after all this time, finding out that there was no other guy. She's still in love with me, I know it. I just know it," he chewed thoughtfully on a fingernail, avoiding Ryan's pointed stare.

"Seth,." Ryan sighed, and sat down at his desk, in the classic pose of elbows-on-knees, head down. He was becoming very weary, Ryan. Seth didn't like it. "Have you thought about what all this might entail? She's _blind_."

"She's also Summer," Seth snapped, then sighed, as if to retract it.

"You're going to do whatever you want, and I guess I would, too, if it were... Just be careful. She's already burned you once...bad."

"I know," Seth replied quietly. "She's scared too, Ry. I've talked to her about ..._this_, but so far I think she's just humoring me. Anna's getting married, and I think Summer thinks that when Anna kicks her out she's just going to turn into a pumpkin or something. She's not thinking about the future at all."

"She is," Ryan disagreed. "Though maybe not as fly-by-the-seat as you would. Summer has to think about all the things you_ haven't_ thought about. How is she going to navigate this apartment, for instance? What if she needs something during the day and neither one of us can leave work? Who's going to help her if she gets sick, or needs something...uh, something..."

"Girly?"

"Yes, girly," Ryan agreed, eagerly.

"I've thought about that, too," Seth said, with growing enthusiasm. "I've been thinking Summer might not have to leave that apartment at all."

Ryan's expression dropped. "Seth, _no_..."

"Think about it, Ry. We've been talking about getting a bigger place for forever. Anna can live in the same building, or very close, and she can still be there to help Summer with...the girly stuff. Not only that, but she'll still be close enough to help if we can't leave work. In fact, Kurt would be there to help, too. Summer's gone from one person to help her to four. There's nothing bad about this plan, Ryan."

"Who's going to help with the rent?"

"Well, between you, me and Summer's dad, I think we'll have it covered. But if we need help, given the circumstances, I know my mom would kick in some."

"And you just want to marry her?" Ryan asked dubiously.

"I want her to move in with us first...or more accurately, I want _us_ to move in with _her_," Seth jumped off the bed and headed towards the door. "Baby steps, Ry, baby steps." He patted Ryan's knee and narrowly avoided being tackled by Ryan in return. He grabbed his jacket from the doorknob, and scurried to the front door, hollering, "you better hurry. You're going to be late for work!"

* * *

"I'm home!" Anna called as she struggled through the front door, her luggage making her entrance cumbersome. Summer came dashing around the corner from the back hall and flung herself into Anna's arms, hugging her tightly. 

"I missed you!"

Anna rocked back on her heels to cushion the force of Summer's enthusiastic greeting, and held on tight to her best friend. "I know. Me too. I'm glad to be home."

"Did Kurt drive you crazy?" Summer asked, her face buried in Anna's bony shoulder.

"A little," Anna admitted with a laugh.

"Come, come on, I opened some wine," Summer released her, and then frolicked towards the kitchen; Anna stood against the doorframe and witnessed the changes in her friend. Summer moved more easily, she was more open, and she'd smiled more in the last minute and a half than she had in the last month.

"What's going on?" Anna asked, with a suspicious smile firmly in place as she followed Summer towards the kitchen.

"What do you mean?" Summer's reply was too innocent. She poured Anna a glass of wine, and then handed it to her with a giddy smile. "I'm glad to have you home."

"Since when did being glad to have me home include a bear hug at the door and a bottle of wine?"

Summer rolled her eyes playfully. "You've been gone, like, a month."

"Nice try. Twelve days."

"Well, it _felt_ like a month," Summer oozed past Anna into the living room and primly settled herself on the end of the couch.

"I see," Anna let the matter drop for the moment and came to sit down next to her friend. "So what have you and Seth been up to?"

Summer choked on her wine. Anna frowned and then patted Summer's back.

"Nothing," Summer squeaked, flushing hotly. "What about you?" she asked quickly. "How was your flight? Is your family okay?"

"The family is fine. What's going on with you and Seth?" Anna asked again, serious.

"Nothing. We've been playing pinochle and parcheesi with alarming regularity."

"_Summer_," Anna's voice held a warning. Summer squirmed.

"I know you're getting married," Summer finally blurted, and then breathed a huge sigh of relief.

"What!"

"Yup, I've known since it happened. I mean, since you became engaged, I've known."

"_W-What? How?_" Anna stammered.

Summer shrugged. "I listen. I listen when no one thinks I'm listening. And not like, eavesdropping. I just knew. The air between you and Kurt had...changed. The air between you and I changed."

"Summer," Anna began delicately.

"No, I know. It's okay. I want you to be happy," Summer assured her, nodding helpfully.

Anna reached up and brushed away Summer's tears. Summer hadn't realized she was crying.

"If you... if you ask me not to marry him, I won't," Anna said, and Summer understood the underlying promise perfectly. _If you tell me you love me, I'll leave him._

Her dizzy heart _ached_ with feeling; how could she deny her best friend in the world? How could she possibly explain to Anna exactly what she meant to Summer? It wasn't that she could never love Anna in the way that Anna loved her, because if circumstances had been different—if there were no Seth—Summer probably could have loved Anna desperately. But the Seth factor made all the difference. "I can't ask you to do that," Summer finally replied.

"I know you don't feel like you _should_...but what you _feel_ like you should do and what you _should do_ are sometimes different things," Anna's husky voice reminded her.

"Seth asked me to move in with him. Er, with him and Ryan," Summer confessed.

Anna felt as if she'd been slapped. "How does _Seth_ know?" Her tone was accusative, Summer felt worse than ever.

"Seth...knew I was worried about something, and finally I told him."

Anna put her head in her hands, "oh, Jesus."

"No, Anna," Summer's voice choked and her hands flew to Anna's shoulders. "It's not like that. I knew that one day..._this_ would end. I've known from the very beginning. It's only natural that you would want your own family, and I'm only in the way now."

"Summer, you're not in the way," Anna began to cry as well, and she felt like beating the sofa cushions for release.

"Yes, I am. And I wasn't sure what I was going to do when you were ready for me to move out... But see, if I move in with Seth, that buys me...a year, maybe eighteen months?..."

"Summer," Anna tried to interrupt.

Summer closed gentle fingers over Anna's mouth. "I've got to figure out what I'm going to do with my life, Anna. I'm too old to be sitting around this apartment pouting because I can't see. I need to figure out ... how to live on my own."

"And how will moving in with Seth and Ryan do that?"

"The more times I place myself into strange situations, into strange places...the more I will adapt. There's nothing that says I couldn't do volunteer work... or maybe even get a job..."

"So a week with Seth and suddenly you're ready to run right out and get a _job_?" Anna's face crumpled.

"No, no," Summer slid off the sofa and onto her knees in front of Anna. She took Anna's face into her warm hands. "You...leaving me, here, it just made me face up to what I knew was coming. _I knew this was coming_, Anna. I didn't want to prepare for it because it _killed me_ that you would rather be with Kurt than be with me."

Anna opened her mouth to protest, but Summer forged on.

"But we're not lovers, Anna. We're not ... we're not anything more than best friends, and it would be ...cruel and unfair to ask you for anything more than you've already given me."

Anna wrapped her hands around Summer's, whose palms were still pressing into Anna's cheeks.

"I want you to get married. I want you to have a wonderful life," Summer whispered.

Anna was breathless, speechless. Tears continued to course down her cheeks and she felt the phlegmy beginning of a runny nose. "I want that for you, too."

A ghost of a smile played across Summer's face. "And a dream is a wish your heart makes."

Anna laughed through her tears.

"I'm okay with it, Anna, I promise. Or I will be very soon. And I'm okay with knowing that I'll probably never get to have that. I understand."

Anna's shoulders shook with repressed sobs, Summer stroked her cheek gently.

"It doesn't have to be Seth...that I move in with. It just seems logical, I guess. I'm not..." she took a deep breath. "I'm not ready to live by myself. Not just yet. But I guess I need to get out of your hair, huh?" She pressed her forehead against Anna's.

"You're not in my hair. You've never been in my hair," Anna promised.

"I know," Summer smiled. "Listen, Seth's coming over after while and we can talk some more. We always seem to have plenty of time for that," she rolled her eyes. "And you better go wash your face...you're grossing me out."

Anna shoved her palm into Summer's shoulder and breathed a sigh of relief. She stood up after Summer and wiped mascara-streaked cheeks with the sleeves of her sweater. She bit back fresh tears watching Summer feel her way back up onto the couch. She couldn't cry now, not in front of Summer.

"I'm going to go unpack," her voice wavered just slightly; Summer cocked her head, frowning. Anna pecked her cheek, squeezed her hand. "Let's go to Mr. Wong's for dinner."

Summer nodded silently, and smiled. Anna smiled back.

* * *

To be continued... 


	26. My Heart Was Caught in a Landslide

Dark Night, Hold Tight, part 26

A/N: As always, flashbacks are in italics.

* * *

Summer had known since she was twelve years old that the world was out to try to manipulate her. Her father's manipulation was subtle, but effective. He would stay away for weeks at a time, making her miserable in her life-sized Barbie Dream House with only her stepmother to share her pain. His few visits were spent with Summer trying to get a few moments alone with him, seeking praise, attention, whatever he was willing to give her, _anything, please_. 

Her stepmother, affectionately referred to as the step_monster_ hardly noticed when Summer was home, much less the minutia of her daily life. Summer only occasionally wished she could drown her sorrows the way the current Mrs. Roberts chose to, with a variety of pills and other substances meant to dull and stupefy.

When Seth Cohen wandered into her life she found it hard to believe that all he wanted was to love her. The Thanksgiving Anna-Summer-threesome debacle proved to her what her cynical mind had been searching for all along: Seth had been just waiting for an opportunity to play her. He spent the next year and a half trying to prove her wrong, that he loved her, truly, that he had always loved her. Seth once asked her why her father left her alone that way he did.

_They had been sitting together on his bed, the TV on, but neither really watching it. She had her back to his chest, her body safely nestled between his spread thighs, his arms wrapped around her chest. His breath had pulsed warmly against her ear; she remembered the delicious thrill that ran down her spine every time he touched her. _

_She had shrugged, but remained quiet, deep in thought. _

_"A couple of years ago, I found a home video of my first birthday," Summer began, her voice timid, hesitant. "My dad was working the camera and my mom was holding me. The way I look now…I look almost exactly like she did then. And we laugh the same, and flip our hair the same way. I think I must just remind him too much of her, you know?" _

_Seth let out a deep sigh, kissing the top of her head affectionately. For once, he didn't interrupt. _

_"He never talks about her, not even right after it happened. She drowned herself one afternoon when he was out of town, and I guess she thought the help would find her...but they didn't. **I did. **I found her birth certificate right after I found the video, her mother's name was Alice Wiederhold, and her father was Muslim, so I think that's where we get our coloring. They named her Fadia, but the only thing I've ever heard her called was 'Fay.' I wish I could know something about her…even just…anything," Summer said wistfully. _

Summer relied on her memories now the way other people relied on their sight, and sense of touch. Every moment with Seth, Marissa, her mother...had been carefully crystallized in her perfect memory for her to replay over and over again in the lonely days and nights that had become her monotonous life. Marissa would never again understand how Summer felt, not about Seth, and not about life. Once, during a bender after the whole Oliver/Ryan debacle ended, Marissa had told Summer that she thought that someone like Seth would be too suffocating for her, for a _relationship_. Summer wanted to snort and to tell Marissa that she was a fine one to talk about clinging, but she managed to hold her tongue. Seth could be overbearing, even sometimes obnoxiously so…but he was _Seth_. Despite the snarky banter, the witty repartee, Summer knew that Seth loved her. And after years of neglect, she needed to be smothered, she needed the attention, the affection. She needed _him_.

* * *

_Seth felt rather than heard Summer's approach down the sandy hillside from the Cohen's backyard, if it could be called such. Despite her vivacious personality, Summer moved with a quiet efficiency that impressed Seth, who usually became his own worst enemy when it came to the stealth. Summer wrapped her arms around his neck, pressing her breasts against his back and giving his ear a quick kiss. _

_"Hey." _

_Seth just gave a short nod in response. _

_"What's wrong?" Summer demanded. "Why are you out here, alone? You've been quiet lately. **Too quiet**." _

_"Too quiet?" Seth quirked an eyebrow. "I never thought I'd hear **you** complaining about the lack of chatter." _

_Summer threaded her fingers through his wildly curly hair. "You stop talking, I start worrying. The last time you got this quiet, you ended up on a boat for four months." _

_Seth reached for her hand, pulling her body around to settle sideways across his lap._

_"I'm not leaving," he promised. _

_"So what are you thinking about?" Summer asked softly, stroking his face. "You need a shave," she commented idly._

_"I've been thinking..." Seth began, slowly. _

_"Yeah, I caught that," she retorted dryly. _

_"I've been thinking about...asking you to marry me. Only here's the thing, I'm really kind of scared as hell about that, partly that you'll say yes, and partly that you'll say no. And it's not like I want to carry you off tomorrow or anything--I mean, we're not in West Virginia. But before we go off to college...I really think I want to marry you," Seth looked everywhere but Summer's face, his natural defenses kicking in. He didn't think he could bear to see the rejection written on her face. _

_"Oh, Seth," Summer sighed softly. _

_Seth's ears perked, "Not Cohen today?" he prodded, nudging her knee. _

_Summer didn't answer. They sat quietly for several long minutes, watching the sandpipers run along the edge of the water, the tiny waves lapping at the shore delicately. _

_"It's not that I wouldn't want to marry you, baby," Summer smiled, a little sadly. "But we **just** graduated. **From high school**," she added unnecessarily. "And I think you have this idealized rosy picture of marriage and you want to hold me up on that same pedestal, and I just...don't belong there. I don't think we can go impulsively **do** something like this." _

_"We don't have to," Seth insisted. "Talk to me. Lay it on me. I'm all ears." He tried very hard to keep his mouth shut. _

_"Seth...**Cohen**...your parents, they're great. I mean, I don't know anyone else in the world that would let their son's girlfriend practically move in with them. And you know, I can tell that they love us--Ryan and me, as if we were their own children. They get along, they love you, they're the perfect couple, and I mean, seriously. They've been together twenty years without killing each other, without getting a divorce...Jesus I've been with you for every day for like, three months and I've never even heard them argue." _

_"Oh they argue," Seth commented wryly, then mimicked a zipper across his lips when Summer glared at him. _

_"Look around us, Cohen. Marissa's parents--abysmal ending to **that** marriage. And Julie didn't do so hot with your grandfather, either. Ryan's parents split up when he was what...six? His dad's in jail, his mom is God-knows-where... Luke's mom and dad got a divorce after like, 20 years together. God, my mom **killed herself** before I even got out of junior high. My father raised me like a charming little pet who would always be satisfied with clothes and shoes and money, instead of love. What guarantees we would be any better off?" Summer's rant was bitter, but her voice was sad, full of longing and regret. _

_"I think we have to **work** on it," Seth said honestly. "We have to commit to being faithful and honest and all that stuff, but we also have to keep talking to each other. Listening to each other," Seth conceded, seeing Summer's stony look. _

_"Listening to one another is not the same as understanding one another." _

_Seth began again, incensed. "And let's be fair...any marriage with Julie Cooper is doomed for failure. There are not enough men in this world who speak money. And it's not fair bringing up Luke's parents because his dad is like, the gayest gay man **ever**. Ryan's parent's split up **because** his dad went to jail. Not to extrapolate here, but we have no idea what Ryan's family would be like if they had stayed together. When they were together, I think it was okay, as much as Ryan doesn't talk about it. Summer, you and I are so perfect for each other...and so what if I figured it out at eighteen? Or twelve, or six, for that matter? I'm just glad I figured it out at all. I mean, how is it any better that my parents got married at 25? Or my Dad's cousin, who got married last year at 44? And who else would put up with me, and my **great** t-shirt collection? And who else would put up with the rage blackouts?" _

_"My father would disown me," Summer mused. _

_"So? Take a look around you, sugar. You pretty much live in **my parent's** house. Your father's been gone for weeks. You spend all your time with us, we're going to college together...it's not like you'd really be missing out on all that **great** quality time you spend with him. I'm just saying…we would have to be smart about it, but we could do it." _

_"I'll think about it," Summer promised finally, nonchalantly. _

_"That's all I ask," Seth nodded happily._

_

* * *

_It had taken him another five years to ask her again, and when she said yes, she'd been truly ready. They'd talked about it many times in between that day on the beach and the night of her graduation from college, but something had always diverted their attention. That had never seemed to matter, though... Seth had known from the moment that first time that she would always say yes, no matter how many times he asked her.

_"**Summer**?" Seth asked, his voice groggy. He sat up as she pulled up on his quilt and slid under the covers. _

_"It's me," she leaped into the bed and burrowed under the covers. "Cohen, why do you have to keep it like an icebox in here?" _

_"Nice to see you too, sugar. I'm actually going to be hanging meat later." _

_"Seth," Summer's voice trembled and she pressed her face against his bare chest without another thought. _

_"Hey, hey," Seth whispered, laughing in protest until he realized she was crying. "Hey," he pulled himself down until their faces were level and wiped her tears away with the balls of his thumbs. "Summer, what's wrong?" _

_"Your parents have been so good to me. You've been so good to me," her voice came out as a broken sob. "And I haven't done anything to d-d-deserve it." _

_"Shhh, baby. You don't have to **deserve** it. It just is. My parents love you, Ryan loves you. I...I love you. I **love** you, Summer." _

_Summer burrowed her face back into Seth's neck. "Idjwudfju." _

_"Mumble, mumble, mumble," Seth teased affectionately. _

_Summer lifted her head just enough to articulate. "I love you, too." Her dark glassy eyes locked on Seth's serious gaze. He leaned forward, his breath hitching in his chest painfully. His eyes darted back and forth between her eyes and her lips, the classic sign that he was going to kiss her. Summer relaxed as his warm sweet breath ghosted across her lips. Her eyelashes fluttered across her cheeks as she closed her eyes with slow deliberation. _

_"Is it okay if I kiss you now?" Seth asked, his mouth barely grazing hers. Summer closed the millimeter's distance between their lips and moaned at the agonizing pleasure of being with Seth. She wrapped her arms around his neck, willing him to embrace her completely. Seth was tentative, gentle, and so she encouraged him with insistent thrusts of her chest against his. _

_"Hold me," she begged quietly, and he crushed her into a hug, rocking her in his arms. It might have been patronizing, had it been anyone other than Seth. But Seth could never be anything but completely taken with her, and she knew that he needed to hold her just as much as she needed him to. Seth laid a kiss on the flushed skin of her forehead. _

_"You're hot," he worried, pressing the back of his hand to her brow. _

_"I'm fine." _

_"You sure?" _

_"Seth, I want to marry you," Summer blurted. _

_Seth's eyes widened in surprise. _

_"I've thought about it." _

_"Summer, I just asked you this afternoon. You couldn't possibly have..." _

_"I've **thought **about it," Summer repeated, meaningfully. _

_"Ohhhh," Seth caught on. "Before? Summer, that's awesome." _

_"I don't want to wait," Summer entwined their fingers. Seth frowned. "I've been without you too long already," she hurried to explain, her voice trembling. "All those years I wasn't allowed to be with you because I was so shallow and all my friends thought you were creepy. And because I couldn't think for myself, I just let you... And then all of those months I was with Zach because I just couldn't forgive you. And what I couldn't see...didn't want to see, I guess, is that you left **when** Ryan left, but you left **because **of me. You left because I never noticed you until Ryan came along, and you were afraid I was going to leave when he left, too. I mean, we've both been really stupid, and not just about that. I just don't want to be without you again, not again." _

_Seth's mouth met hers in an impetuous kiss. She helped him pull her t-shirt over her head and wiggled closer as the bare skin of his toned chest gently rubbed against her breasts. _

_They made love quietly in the dull darkness, whispering to each other the things they never said. Summer bit back her moans of pleasure, and Seth kissed away her tears of release. She arched up into his arms as she came, clinging to his lean body and whimpering. It was all Seth could do to hold her up, gracefully balanced on his shins, and yet somehow he managed to continue kissing the tender skin of her neck reverently. He laid her back onto the bed and kissed her forehead._

_The next morning Summer got dressed and went back to the guest room before Sandy and Kirsten awoke, and she and Seth never spoke of that night again._

_

* * *

_  
"Are you sure Seth said it was okay that I come with you guys?" Anna asked, biting her lip pensively as she stood in Summer's doorway. She was midway through getting dressed for dinner at the Nana's house, clad in her stockings and slip and holding the hanger with the dress that Summer had pressed for her the night before.

"Yes, he asked for you, specifically," Summer repeated again, rolling her eyes playfully. "He probably will talk your ear off all night long about some stupid comic book, or his band."

"Seth has a band?" Anna asked, surprised.

"Yeah, he took me to see them play...they're not half bad. For a garage band, anyway," Summer shimmied into her favorite pair of jeans, and then smoothed the fabric across her bottom before buttoning the fly.

"Oh," Anna's voice was soft, wistful.

"They play, like, four times a week," Summer quickly explained. "You could probably go see them this week, if you wanted. Seth would love to have you there."

"Maybe," Anna fingered the silky sleeve of the cute little dress she was about to don. Summer was carefully fastening the buttons of her clean white shirt, checking fastidiously to make sure each button was in the proper buttonhole.

"I'm about to paint my fingernails," she announced before disappearing into her bathroom.

"I'm gonna go... just get dressed," Anna stammered, suddenly aware that she was half-naked. As soon as she was safely back in her room, she pulled the gossamer fabric over her head. From the front door she heard Seth's knock, and Summer's answering call that she was coming. Anna took a deep breath, steeled herself for the night to come.

* * *

To be continued... 


	27. And Now It Feels For You Only

**Chapter 27: And Now It Feels For You Only**

A/N: I know some of you thought this would never come. Believe me, so did I. I last posted on October 23, 2005. Since then, my life went to shit and back again. The person I had a crush on – the person I started writing this story for – my boss, my best friend, my confidante – had me fired. I slipped into deep depression, faced unemployment, and was in a daze for about a year and a half. During that year and a half, I didn't even know it, but I was falling in love with someone else. I moved halfway across the country to be with her, I'm in a Master's program, finally, and I have a job I love. I had some inspiration this weekend (not finishing this story has **always **bothered me), and I decided to pound some out. I hope it meets with your approval.

Please keep in mind only seasons 1 and 2 had occurred at this point in the story, though it is set in the future.

****

Ryan growled when, for the fourth time in twenty minutes, he saw Seth's name appear on the LCD screen of his cell phone. "Seth, I swear to God..." he began as he answered.

"I know, I'm sorry. I just forgot to tell you to be sure to tell Mom and Dad not to stare when I bring her over, she always knows when someone is staring."

"You didn't forget. You've told me three times already."

"I did?" Seth sounded genuinely surprised. Ryan rolled his eyes.

"Yes. You also reminded me that Nana likes red wine and not white; not to mention that you want Summer to move in with us; not to tell Anna you and Summer slept together; and to help keep Kirsten and Nana in separate rooms at all times. Is there anything I've forgotten? Anything else you want to tell me for a third, or even fourth time?"

"No," Seth answered meekly.

"Good, because I'm almost there," Ryan said as he rounded the corner on the end of Sophie's block.

"Me, too," Seth replied, panting.

"What are you doing?" Ryan asked, bemused.

"Climbing stairs."

"I thought Summer's building had an elevator."

"It does. But I wouldn't get cell phone connection in the elevator."

Ryan rolled his eyes again. "I'll see you soon."

"10-4, good buddy," Seth said cheerfully before Ryan ended the call.

Seth knocked on the door to the apartment and whistled when Anna opened the door. The silk number someone might have mistakenly marketed as a dress clung sensuously to her lithe body.

"Anna, you look...smokin'." He elbowed her in the ribs as he brushed past. Summer stood at the entrance to the living room, her hip cocked and arms akimbo. Seth blushed and ducked his head as he babbled, "Of course you look smokin', too, Summer." Both girls rolled their eyes.

Seth helped them into their coats, and escorted them into the elevator and downstairs. As they spilled out on to the sidewalk, Anna made a conscious effort to walk two or three steps behind the couple, to try to observe, unfettered, their behavior towards one another.

She was disappointed that they both remained quiet for most of the journey, which granted, was only five blocks, but she didn't want to interrupt or call attention to herself, so she didn't attempt conversation, either.

As they halted for traffic at the last crosswalk, Summer subconsciously laced her arm through Seth's, a move that did not escape Anna's attention.

After several long moments of silence, Summer lifted her face skyward; Seth also looked up.

"Now," she whispered, a second before downy snow began to fall around them.

"How do you do that?" he asked, almost incredulously. "How do you know things you can't see?"

Summer shrugged, a little embarrassed. "It's like, because I can't see, everything else kicks in. I hear better, and smell better. It's funny, the things that I never paid attention to before just stand out now. Like ambient noise becomes important and I just notice things."

"Okay, but how did you know it was going to snow?"

"Well, I knew when we walked outside because of the moisture in the air, and then a breeze swept over us and I just knew."

"That's amazing," Seth marveled, and looked to Anna for confirmation. Anna nodded her agreement as the little white man on the crosswalk lit up. They walked the rest of the way to Sophie's apartment with Seth bouncing on the balls of his feet, full of nervous energy. Somehow, Anna ended up in front of Seth and Summer as they approached the front door of the brownstone, and she lifted her fist to knock with a little uncertainty.

"Hey!" Sandy crowed when the door swung open. "Come in, come in!"

"Thank you, Mr. Cohen," Anna answered politely.

"Oh, it's Sandy, call me Sandy," he chided her gently.

"Sandy," she blushed as she repeated his name.

As Sandy helped Anna remove her coat, Seth did the same for Summer.

"Listen, how many kids with ADD does it take to change a lightbulb?" Sandy asked to break the ice.

"How many?" Summer replied boldly.

If Sandy was surprised, he didn't show it. "Hey, you wanna go ride bikes?" he rejoined, eyes twinkling.

Seth rolled his eyes when the girls laughed, then he lagged behind to talk with his father. "Don't stare at her, Dad."

"Was I staring?"

"Well, no. But just, don't."

"Ryan already told us," Sandy whispered, just before they entered the living room. Then, more loudly, "I'm making meatloaf enchiladas, they're almost ready." He rubbed his hands together proudly.

Anna wrinkled her nose. "Meatloaf enchiladas?" she asked dubiously.

"Hey," Seth warned with mock seriousness, "Don't knock them until you try them." He turned back towards his father. "What's for dessert, Daddy?"

"Ryan is making tapioca pudding," Sandy's formidable eyebrows rose as he pushed his son toward the kitchen. "Go help him."

Seth's protest was lost as Sandy put one arm over the shoulder of each girl, and accompanied them into the living room. "Anna, Summer... would you like to sit down?"

Kirsten rose from her, setting down the book she had been reading. "Summer, sweetheart." She enveloped Summer in a warm hug, whispering her ear how beautiful she looked. Kirsten drew back, then reached for Anna. "Anna, you look lovely, too."

"Thank you, Mrs. Cohen," Anna replied, flushing under Kirsten's scrutiny.

"Have you seen Mom?" Sandy asked his wife, loosing his tie.

"I think I saw her go into the kitchen with the boys. I've been hiding behind my book," Kirsten chuckled.

"Ahhh," Sandy wandered off in search of Sophie.

Kirsten sat down and patted the sofa next to her. "Come, sit down."

Daintily, Summer settled herself next to Kirsten; Anna felt clumsy as she stumbled as she moved to sit on Summer's opposite side.

They sat in awkward silence for almost a minute. Finally, Summer's long-dormant sense of graciousness rose to the surface.

"Kirsten, how have you been?" she asked quietly, almost sheepishly.

Kirsten smiled enigmatically, revealing nothing. "We've been fine. Nothing new in Newport – same old backstabbers and bitches."

Of course, Sophie chose that moment to poke her head in, and overheard her daughter-in-law's remark.

"Oy, you talk like that in front of the children? Summer, when you're done, come and help me, _bubbala_." Her springy curls disappeared again, and Kirsten rolled her eyes.

"Pardon me, I'll be in the ladies' room," she rose from her seat, taking her book with her.

Ryan wandered into the living room, still drying his hands on a paper towel. "She's in top form," he commented ruefully. As if on cue, an indignant shriek erupted from the kitchen, and Seth came racing out as if the hounds of hell were on his heels. He sped past Ryan, through the living room, and into the back hallway.

Ryan rolled his eyes and sat down in an armchair across from Anna.

"My day off shouldn't feel like I'm teaching kindergarten," he muttered.

From the bowels of the apartment, they heard Seth's whine,

"But Mom, I have to _go_!"

A wry smile twisted Summer's lips, and Anna chuckled outright.

"He's doing that for your benefit," Ryan commented, raising an eyebrow. "Mr. Comedy."

"SUMMER! COME CHECK OUT WHAT I FOUND!"

Summer rolled her eyes, and to Anna's shock, instead of turning to her for help, rose and began to feel her way through the empty living room and towards the hall. Anna watched in amazement as she found the mouth of the hallway and began to move through it, against the wall.

Ryan noted her expression and grunted, "doesn't do that much?"

"Never," Anna noted, crestfallen. "She..."

"She clings?" he supplied.

Anna noted, mute.

"Has he talked to you about wanting Summer to move in with us?"

Anna cleared her throat, delicately. "She did."

"She's for it?" Ryan asked, surprised. "I thought Seth was trying to take everyone hostage on this."

"I think he must have been, at first. Summer didn't even want him over for the weeks when I was gone..."

"Strange," Ryan murmured.

"Then something happened...she's different," Anna continued, a hint of sadness coating each word. "It's like I came back to an alternate universe."

"What do you think would happen if she moved in with us?"

"It's either going to work out great..." Anna began, wistfully.

"Or they're going to drive each other crazy," Ryan finished.

"I honestly don't even know _what_ to think anymore," Anna confessed, her head dropping into her hands.

"That makes two of us."

In the bedroom, Seth gently pulled Summer down to sit next to him on the bed.

"I was in Greenwich yesterday and look what I found!" He placed his prize in her hands and waited patiently for her to unwrap the plastic and discard it.

"What is it?" she asked curiously, feeling the slick cover and raised dots.

"Read it!" Seth's excitement was palpable; next to her, he vibrated with energy.

"The Amazing Spiderman, Volume Six Hundred Seventeen," Summer read laboriously, unable to believe her own ears, her own fingertips.

Seth was practically floating.

"You found comic books in _Braille_?"

"I know! It's like kismet, Summer. Kismet."

"It's like, geeky as hell, Cohen. What makes you think I want comic books in Braille?" she snarked.

"Oh, don't lie. The literary 'genius' of Salinger and Flaubert barely hold a candle to Stan Lee."

"Oooh, Cohen, you're like...Prince of the Dorks."

"You may call me Lord Sauron," Seth announced imperiously, pretending to buff his nails, then dropping his hands when he remembered she couldn't see him.

Summer turned a laughing face to him, tossing the comic book to the bedspread. "Oh, Cohen...I much preferred Aragorn, son of Arathorn. Rowr."

Seth took her mouth in a passionate kiss, stopping only long enough to murmur, "You're unbelievably sexy when you speak Tolkien."

Their tongues tangled sensuously, Seth's fingers threading through her chestnut curls.

"Say something else," he entreated breathlessly.

Summer grinned, "Meriadoc Brandybuck," she whispered. They giggled before kissing again, their momentary joy transcendent.

From the doorway, Anna stood in absolute shock. She'd opened the doorexpecting to find the two arguing, per usual, and instead, they were seconds away from ripping one another's clothes off.

"What the_ fuck_?" she demanded imperiously.

Startled, Summer and Seth abruptly parted, panting.

"Anna, it's not what it looks like," Seth began.

Anna laughed mirthlessly, the sound cruel in the dim, cool room.

"Is that what this is all about? Sex?"

"No, Anna...I didn't...I mean, we didn't..."

"Yes, you did," Anna refuted, incredulous. "You did, and you will, and fuck what I think about it."

"No, I meant..." Summer tried again, frustrated as hell she couldn't see her beloved friend's face. "I tried to tell you, but..."

"Oh, go to _hell_!" Anna cried, slamming the open door against the wall. She turned and hustled down the hall, grabbing her coat from the coat rack, ignoring Sandy and Sophie standing in the kitchen doorway, looking utterly perplexed.

"Anna," Summer followed her, carefully maneuvering along the wall. She heard the front door slam, and she didn't bother with her coat or hat, she followed Anna outside, closing the door behind her.

"Anna!" she called. To her relief, her friend had not gotten far.

"What?!" Anna spat, whirling around from where she was standing on the sidewalk, trying to hail a cab.

"Why are you so angry?" Summer demanded. "You _wanted_ this!"

"I didn't think it was going to happen so soon!"

"You knew I was still in love with Seth! You knew he would try to get in my pants! He's Seth! Are you really trying to tell me that you're surprised?"

"I don't know what I am, Summer," Anna yelled back, choking up. "I have to go," she blurted before turning on her heel and running away.

"Anna!" Summer cried helplessly.

The front door cracked open, and Ryan stood in the doorway. Sighing, he pulled Summer back inside, wrapping her in a hug as she shivered in the circle of his arms.

"What did she think was going to happen?" Summer muttered, her teeth chattering.

"I don't know," Ryan murmured against her sleek raven locks. "She didn't tell me."

TO BE CONTINUED... (Very soon, I promise, I already have it written). :P


	28. Distant Though I Am

A/N: I know I'm a bit rusty…forgive me. Flashbacks are in italics.

****

_The Golden Girls theme blared through the bedroom, immediately waking Seth, making his heart palipitate. _

_"Summer?" he hissed into his phone. "Where are you?" _

_"In my room. Will you come over?" _

_You called me at two a.m. to ask me to walk five feet to your room?" _

_"Uh huh." _

_Seth sighed in response, but began to search around on the floor beside his bed for his pajama pants. _

_A few moments later he was dressed and crossing the hall to the guest bedroom, the door whispering closed behind him. _

_Summer was sitting up in bed, biting her bottom lip in an adorable pout. _

_"Summer." No longer a question._

_"Hi," she whispered shyly. She was wearing his 'I caught you a delicious bass' shirt. It was #123 on the list of things that Summer did that drove him wild, she liked wearing his shirts to bed. Number 122, she now owned a pair of cute red Converse sneakers. Number 121 was her love of cheesy Journey songs, especially when she and Ryan would sing along in the car..._

_"Cohen?" Summer was standing before him, his shirt now falling softly to the floor, and Summer-not-wearing-his-shirt-to-bed now leapt to #1 on The List. She bit her lip apprehensively, wrapping her arms around her chest in a protective gesture. Seth's mouth was still hanging open, so he forced his jaw shut with an audible 'clack' and reached for her hand. She pulled him onto the bed, and Seth settled above her as if he wanted to ravish her completely. Which he most assuredly did. He began kissing her senseless, moaning incomprehensible endearments into her mouth. Summer didn't have to know what he was saying, she knew exactly what he meant. _

_It had been too long, much too long since they'd been together this way. With finals, and then the trip home to Newport, it had been weeks since they'd been intimate. _

_"You're naked," he muttered happily. _

_Summer nodded silently, smiling and biting her lip again. A hot flush rose to her cheeks. _

_"You're naked for _me. _That's so awesome. I should write a book about how awesome this moment is," Seth began. Summer clamped a hand over his mouth before he could go on. _

_"If you don't kiss me, I'm going to write a book about how they'll never find your body," she threatened, her tone sugary. Seth didn't bother answering her, he dove in again for another breathless kiss, nipping at her lips, laving them with his tongue, ruthlessly plunging in again and again. He wrapped his tongue around hers and sucked, holding her arms against the mattress to stop her from interfering. She writhed against him, impatient, rocking her hips upwards into his erection, moaning indecently. _

_Seth tore his mouth away after a moment. "Not that that isn't...the_ best _sound in the entire world...but we are in a house full of people," Seth reminded her quietly. Summer was having a problem making her eyes focus. _

_"Hey," Seth said after a moment, waving a hand in front of her face. __"Is something wrong?" _

_"I just needed to feel safe," Summer said quietly, conscious of Seth's parents, right next door._

_Startled by her honesty, Seth pulled her close__. His right arm slid underneath her limp neck, cradling her gently as he wrapped his left arm around her, propping himself up on his right hip. _

_"We don't have to have sex to make you feel safe, do we?" he asked after a moment, equally torn between his desire for her to affirm, and negate. Not that sex with Summer wasn't always the most awesome thing ever, but his parents _were_ only a wall away. Regardless of their laissez-faire attitude about a lot of things, Seth wasn't pretty sure they didn't want to hear their son knocking boots with his girlfriend. _

"_No," she giggled. "Just hold me." _

_Seth kissed her forehead. "Don't worry, sugar. I'm going to spend the rest of our lives holding you." _

_* * * _

The rest of the dinner party was a wash. The six remaining diners ate quickly and quietly, and Sandy and Kirsten bade the young people goodnight almost immediately afterwards, promising to help Sophie clean up.

Ryan shared the cab with Summer and Seth back to the girls' apartment, but he had to meet a client for a drink afterwards. Summer entered the apartment alone, unsure what she would find. She called out Anna's name, and upon hearing no response, beckoned Seth inside.

Seth took a quick inventory and determined Anna must have packed an overnight bag and left, and told Summer so.

"Did you have any idea she would…" he began, scratching the back of his neck.

"Go crazy? Have a rage blackout?" Summer filled in dryly. "Would I be a total bitch if I said 'sort of'? I mean, I knew we'd have to talk about it, but I actually wanted to _tell her_ first, you know?"

"And all this is because she's totally gay for you, right?"

"No, Cohen, see I knew you'd get all hung up on that. We're best friends. You threaten her."

"She's the one who invited me over!"

"Yeah, and she leaves here with us barely talking, and comes back to find us in bed together!"

"Technically we were…"

"Shut up, Cohen. It's like, a metaphor."

"Metaphor. Gotcha," he replied with an eyeroll she could sense rather than see.

Summer punched him in the arm with unerring accuracy.

"I see nothing's wrong with your right hook," he rejoined, grimacing in pain.

She plopped down on the couch, and he flopped down next to her, sighing.

"She loves Kurt, I know she does. She just…loves me, too. And she can't, like, separate in her mind the love she feels for me, even though she wants to." Summer sighed.

"You guys really should think about your own soap opera…maybe a prime-time drama…we'll put you right behind the new 90210."

"Tell me about it," Summer replied glumly.

Seth squeezed her knee. "You want to come to my show tonight?"

"No. I'm going to mope. And wait for Anna to come home."

* * *

In the coffee shop down the street from her apartment, Anna sat alone, sipping a mocha latte and wishing she had never picked up Marissa's call. She wished Marissa had died in a freak car accident. She wished, at sixteen, she'd moved in with her aunt and uncle the way she wanted to, instead of letting her dad persuade her to give California a try. She wished Seth Cohen was dead, dead, dead. Only she didn't really wish any of those things.

She fought tears as she remembered the surprise on their faces when she'd interrupted their tete-a-tete – how long had they planned to keep it a secret? It was ludicrous they'd even _tried_. She and Summer _lived together_, for Christ's sake. She was practically Summer's gatekeeper. And therein lied the problem, didn't it?

On the overhead speakers, Gladys Knight sang lustily about a midnight train to Georgia. A lone barista sat at the counter, smacking her gum and reading a trade rag. One other patron was sitting in the olive green velvet armchair across the café, typing furiously on a laptop.

Beneath her chair, her own laptop and duffel bag were propped against her furiously vibrating shin. She pulled out her iBook and quickly connecting to the internet. She did a speedy search for shows in the neighborhood, and scribbled an address in her notebook. Packing up, she crumpled her empty coffee cup and tossed it in the general direction of the trashcan as she left.

* * *

"_I'm a new soul  
I came to this strange world  
Hoping I could learn a bit about how to give and take.  
But since I came here  
Felt the joy and the fear  
Finding myself making every possible mistake_."

Though _Captain Oats and the Sawhorses _promised plenty of original music, they'd played a Blue Oyster Cult cover, a truly terrifying rendition of "Smooth Criminal", and now they were ripping off Yael Naim. Really, some things just couldn't be tolerated.

Anna watched through the smoky interior of the bar as Seth played the bass with furious abandon. She held a rum-and-Coke in a flimsy plastic cup, but she wasn't drinking. She was listening to Seth hit the high notes in a song that wasn't even his.

The band took a break, and Anna took the opportunity to turn to a rabid fan next to her, and ask, "Don't they play anything of their own?"

"Sure, but it's 'Pull Up the Covers' Night," the groupie told her, wiping his sweaty brow with the hem of his t-shirt. "They play scary-bad songs all night, and we get to throw pretzels at them."

"Awesome," Anna remarked drolly before weaving her way through the crowd towards the door. Outside, she pulled a pack of cigarettes from her purse and lit one. The dusky, menthol smoke filled her lungs, making her light-headed.

She walked the eighteen blocks back to her apartment, chain smoking and sipping on her drink. She knew she could get busted for public drinking, but she couldn't bring herself to care. She rode the elevator to her apartment, and steeled herself to enter.

Summer was waiting.

On the coffee table sat a glass of wine and a half-empty bottle, along with an empty glass. Summer poured with shaky fingers, and a small rivulet dribbled over the lip of the glass. She handed the dripping glass to Anna, a peace offering.

"Are you moving in with him just because you're fucking?"

Summer flinched, but recovered quickly. "Are you moving in with Kurt just because you're fucking?"

Anna bared her teeth.

"Don't make that face at me!" Summer commanded. "Look, I fucked up, hugely, and I know that. I wanted to tell you the minute you came through the door, but it never seemed like the right time, and you're still in mourning, and stuff, and I just didn't want to _burden_ you…"

Anna cut her off. "So your big solution is to have me catch you making out with him?"

"Of course not!" Summer replied automatically. "I wasn't even sure it was going to become anything."

"But you're moving in with him."

"I'm letting _you_ move out. In with Kurt. Whatever. Seth and Ryan are going to move in here. Seth is…Seth. We're going to try, I think."

Anna's face crumpled, her pain palpable. "Summer…" Tears clogged her throat, blurred her vision.

"C'mere, honey," Summer opened her arms, and Anna moved forward on her coltish legs. They embraced tightly.

"He's going to leave me. I know he will, eventually," Summer confessed.

"Then _why_?" Anna asked, crying.

"To set you free," Summer replied softly. Her dark, fathomless eyes searched Anna's. "I have to let you go." Her own tears began to slip down ivory cheeks. Anna's fingers found hers, entwining.

"If only…"

"I know," Summer whispered, bringing Anna's hand to her chest, her heart. "But it's not."

Anna nodded, even as she choked on a sob.

TO BE CONTINUED…


	29. This is the End We've Sought After

Summer was in her room, sitting on the edge of the bed. It was four days until Christmas, and Anna had just left with the last load of her belongings. She was officially roommate-less for the next twenty-four hours. However, roommate-less didn't mean alone, and when she heard Seth's jaunty whistle, she wiped away hot tears.

"Whoa-oh here she comes, watch out boy, she'll eat you up…whoa-oh Summmmmmmer, what's the matter?" He dropped his tune and hurried to her side.

"Just saying goodbye to Anna," she sniffled with a melancholy smile. Seth tucked her under his arm and squeezed.

"What have you got there?"

Summer opened her fist to reveal a dangly earring. "I stepped on this…she must have dropped it. I just…she had such bad taste in jewelry, Cohen." She looked as if she were ready to burst into fresh tears.

Seth improvised. "Maybe this is the first step in ridding her of ugly baubles. Every time you go to her new place, you can steal another piece of her jewelry."

"That is, like, genius! I'll replace them with tasteful stuff, then she'll have no choice but to wear jewelry with class."

"Speaking of jewelry with class…my parents told me you never returned the ring," Seth commented casually.

"I know," Summer admitted sadly. "It's not like I forgot about it or lost it or anything. I just wanted to keep it for a little while." She snorted softly. "I still have it," she said as she padded over the bureau and opened the top drawer. She felt around until her fingers wrapped around a small mahogany box. Seth watched curiously as she brought it back to where he was perched on the end of her bed.

She handed the box over to him, and he opened it, finding the ring carefully nestled in the rich red velvet interior. Summer's heartbroken expression was almost enough to make him cry, too.

"Do you…do you want it back now?"

"No," Seth whispered. He clasped her thin fingers in his own and slowly slid the ring onto her finger, waiting breathlessly for her reaction.

Summer bit her lip in agony. "Don't do this to me, Cohen."

"I want you to marry me, Summer," Seth interrupted. "I've wanted you to marry me since I was nine years old. You're the only woman I've ever loved, and if you don't marry me, no one else ever will." He smiled, despite the heaviness of the exchange. "I'm not going to give up. I know you still love me," he insisted stubbornly.

"It won't happen, it can't!"

"You let my Nana put a veil on you!" Seth argued passionately.

"Oh, so now you want me to be rude to the Nana?"

"Stop twisting what I say."

Tears began to spill. "What would you do with a wife who can't see?"

Seth scooted closer, wanting so badly to take her into his arms, but knowing instinctively that he shouldn't smother her. "I would take care of you just like I would if you _could_ see. I'm going to go to work everyday, and come home early so that we can make dinner together. I'm going to help you clean the house, only I'm going to make you unload the dishwasher because I hate doing it. We're going to have babies and maybe a dog, and I'm going to love you for the rest of my life," he promised, laying a gentle kiss on her forehead.

She gasped. "I couldn't take care of a baby!"

He framed her face in his hands, touching her reverently. The ache in her chest intensified, stealing all of her breath. "You're so capable, you don't even know it. Just because you're blind doesn't mean you'd love a baby any less. Ryan's mother can see, and she abandoned him, _twice_. Julie Cooper can see, and she's easily the worst mother I know."

"I can't marry you," Summer shook her lovely head. "I'll only be a disappointment. You'll regret it. I _can't_ trap you into that. I _won't_."

"I could never regret anything that involved you, honey," he kissed her brow again, and then pulled back to stroke a tear-streaked cheek. "Despite the infamous Catamaran Exodus of 2004, I'm not a wanderer. You will never make me feel trapped. You _can_ marry me. You can and you will."

"You can't _make_ me marry you, Cohen," she narrowed her eyes at his demanding tone.

"Don't make me beg," Seth threatened, teasing. "It won't be pretty."

Summer didn't answer. Seth's heart twisted painfully.

"C'mon, Sugar. We've been apart so long because we've both been hard-headed asshats."

"Speak for yourself."

"Marry me. Marry me before I make an obscene declaration of devotion. Do you really want to be alone?"

Summer bit her lip, her eyes welling up dangerously. She shook her head wordlessly.

"Good. Me either," Seth murmured. "Don't make me live without you any longer, please," he pleaded softly, leaning his forehead against hers, breathing in her warm, spicy scent. "I've been miserable without you. And now that I know you're here, that there's not another guy…please."

"When?" she sniffed, not quite willing to admit defeat.

"The courthouse opens at eight a.m. I called."

Though he couldn't see her amused smile, he heard the slight chuckle, the shaky inhalation. He pulled back long enough to wipe away a stray tear. She wrapped her arms around his neck, clinging desperately.

"Don't leave me, Seth. Don't leave me again," she whispered urgently.

"No," he swore, raining kisses across her face, her hair and brow.

"I wish I could see you right now, that would be enough. Just for a minute," Summer said wistfully, her face buried into his sinewy shoulder.

Seth reached for her hands and brought them up to his face, kissing each of her palms before pressing them onto his cheeks. She felt gently with her fingers, tracing along his forehead, his eyebrows and eyelids, and then down the bridge of his nose. The pads of her fingertips brushed against his cheekbones, his jawline, his lips.

"Tomorrow is good. I don't want to wait anymore," she said softly. Seth pulled her forward by the back of her neck in to kiss her breath away. "We don't need a big wedding or family. Ryan and Anna are here, and everyone else can come later."

Seth brushed a lock of hair behind her ear, still stroking her delicate cheek with his thumb. "If that's what you want."

"Isn't that what you want?" Summer asked uncertainly.

"More than anything." He took her mouth in another searing kiss, gathering her into his arms.

Summer moaned against his mouth, and her dizzy heart ached with the very dearness of it. She didn't know when tough, sassy Summer Roberts had become such a girl, but it had happened. Maybe it was the years of self-imposed isolation, or perhaps it was the knowledge that Seth had saved himself for her, to win her back. Or maybe it was just that she'd grown up.

Independence was fine and good, but how great was it when you were alone and miserable because of your own foolish stubbornness? Maturity had brought clarity. She needed Seth, she needed him in her life the way she needed strong and smart Anna, or wise and stoic Ryan, the way she had needed the old Seth back in high school, when she had been too scared to admit it, but he was the only one that saw right through her bullshit.

"Hey," Seth broke away panting, "I know we've got to call, like, everyone we've ever met and all, but there's an Arrested Development marathon starting in thirty minutes, and I think we really need to fuck first."

"You read my mind," Summer grinned, pulling off her blouse.

* * *

Summer and Seth got married on January 12th at the county courthouse with a Justice of the Peace and Ryan presiding as a witness. Summer wore the green dress.

TECHNICALLY, THE END (though an epilogue will follow, shortly).


End file.
